


























' < 1 ? ■P^ 

y' V "^Ij ^ 

'~0 ^ , 0 ^ ^ * j 1 X ■* 

O'- '^C- ^ 

.-i ^' .V 0 :? 

^ O 

.0 


\ 


0 o 




^ oX>^ y '^W' v"^ '•’ ^ 


\V .A 

"/>.. o 

’> 'y^. -y 




•>^ V o 

XV " 4 >■ ^ 



^ ^ t."!^ ^ 

^ o • A * 



! ^ 


c!> 


,0 


S 




o ^ >- 

» 0,4 o’ * ‘ 




\V 







v^ 


o\V 

..\V 'Z^- 


\ 


> ’’• C 


^- ■ - 
s'* x\ 

>? "<?• ^ ^ « ^h 

^ ^ v"^ ^ a^JY7^^?r> -o 

-p 



V ^ ^ « A 




0 ^ V. 



.5^ 


^4 ^ 



O 0 


S‘ 











x0°-. 



N 0. ^ 

\' « A 

,v 


^ )f - ^ ■ 0' 


9 \ \ 


o 





■% 

•y* ^ 


^■)N- 


A^‘ </> 



// C' 




V » « 


c ® ^ . '<^', 

' - ■"'o 0 ^ : 

: A 

> ei> 


^ A 


-4 ^1 

0 ^ V ^ 0 ^ 


^ -a\ * 

ti- '? . 





<5^ ^ 


0 \ 0 


9 \ 


O ^ r\ f\^ 

.0' o - ^•’ 

r- Or 

o '%.#' = 

^ '^, <• 

y 

O ’^ <■ , '-Cp • • 

r -f 

' v^' ■ 

•< “ o , -V * ' ^ 



r<i ■< 

"'oo'* ^.< 

^ 0 

> 

A 

\ -r, >■ ^ 





V o 



\ 


Y * rj 






hV 

>' s 


!'^ jv 




9 1 


AV’ 





w 0 n: 0 ^ 

C^> ^ \ ^ ^ 1 X \ 

A ' v ^ ^>'Nc- ** ^ ^ 



ft * A 
•iA 


x 0 °^. 



\ a ^' *AWaX 




,j^^- ATi. <= 









r'^ 


'•'s'' aN'*' '‘'a fsO 

,*.,>• ^0 S-, °/- *=''‘'> v'''’ »•''* •;.° s.., 


c' 

.V </*. 


^ V V 

'K< c^ " 

^ .V ^ ^ 



C\3 ^ 

V» ^ r^' 








V . 

'^‘ \'^ fvO »> 

X,^^^ ^ .0 HO ^ \V 

\.' ,^'>“ 0 , ^ . 0 ^ v''\^ ' 

iX' •%■''' rA^ts "^ 'Kc C^ ^ sVj St''" 

Z '%■ '^ -’ ' "V' .'C^ 

: -A ^ v^viA/ ♦ A '• s 

^ • 'y. \ i£. ^ ^ 

' 0 ^ ^ ,. 

^ ^ s: o ' 1 <y <* 

^ V^ ' ' '"o o' J 

‘ * , 7 . • ■' ' . . . . \; 7 >f» ’• /; s ‘ s ' V ' . 








^ /, ^ , 
r>^ 1 / .it ^ VJ 


* Cl 

*\> < 

\ ^ 0 » V 

" * *, ''b. .o' i 






_ \ t> ^ 

s " '^/ ' 0 ■> 

^ •'O ' -V "b 


✓ , 

^ V o. r^ ^ p. 

aX' '"yyy. 

_ — y ^ % 

>‘ /" 




c 


cy * 



- s^ " '^d- ^ '‘S''^'' -.* oA '•?■ %- 

"7 0 - , - ' \.x<\ . " ■ . :\ ' ” • ^ 7o>7 " ' ‘ ^ V 



sO o 
\ ^ 


x" oO c* 

ff . ... r ^ .o N 0 ■' 

> vO^ C‘ ^ 

sV * .^5 ''■^ ' .J'" ■ 'b- ° 


y 


,v 













• r 





•1^,. ■«* 
^ » 


■ WDQ-’^’'*"' " vA ■ ' V-'^' 


,i_i'.5V-'!ii’i««li‘v' • •. .■•^- 

'rZLT ^ 


m“ ” 


J.i - '* 

> ' . : >i VI _ 


,.>r| iiv-^'- 

h \A, 

— : ;- ^j. 


Vi 5**4?^,%.- 

■f ' .'it'’,:.''* . IK '£j\ 





,y 


>. 


i% 


,f r* .■. ^ 


f* / 


..rU W. 


• »ju 


K. 


4 * ^ *' 

''' ioB'-' •^K'.'tjU 


^ r - w! j|i 

•T! t* '1 , 4 ‘ 

■jV'. •■ •;- '--^Ai'" S’ 

■ 

. 'P 





V/»- 

’ i • ,^v Vl’. I , 




’ i* 5 I. 

• r 




v^ 1 **^ ii? *»* 










FOR A WOMAN’S SAKE 


BY 



BARON 

VON ROBERTS 


?v'. 




' - , 

i|.i Author of 


“It” 

“The 
Female 
Pensioner ” 

“ Unmusical ” 
“ Satisfaction 




TRANSLATED FROM 


THE GERMAN 
BY 


JESSIE HAYNES 

- ■ ■ 






AMERICAN PUBLISHERS CORPORATION 
310-318 SIXTH Avenue 


New Yor' 


I] 





V ■■ 


Fortnightly 
Series No. 9 


■■ ' 'V/ 'ill 


BARON 
VON ROBERT? 



J Issued Fortnightly, 
Annual Sub- ^ 
scription, $ii.ooT 

. m 

it/ 



Entered as Secon| 
Class Matter at ti 
New York, N.Y. ^ 
Post-Office - 


I /■“ 

i 




August 4, 1896 


'1 








V. 

■’ M. 


■ 3 f ' ' f' - '■ ' * ^ 


V *\’ 



> 





* >* - -L • 


’•■''vi 


4 7 

i ^'-: ': 


* f 





..n 


•4 ^ 




• 1 




» .i 

r- 


"'f I: 






.-i?' 


•v 



4 v‘ ^ ■ •* 'i^-" 


4 T 






f . 


I ♦ 

A- ' • 
r -I J 

»■ ^ u 


s’ • *- 


»r •# 




'*. •• 



r-'v: 

:iig" *•'->■; . . 

•■ .*¥ ***' * 2 ^ ' *• > 

.i, : . 'Xlr<r» • #^<*-1: 
iinlTiiir 








1 •»•• 


i' 


r 









LOU 


I 











8! 




i 




» 


t 



» 










* 


% 


ft 




I 

I 

m 

t 

I 


I 






I 




\ 






« 






LOU 


BY 



BARON VON ROBERTS 

M 

Author of Itf “ The Female Pensioner f Unmusical," 
“ Satisfaction ” 





TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN 

BY 

Jessie Haynes 


NEW YORK ' 

American Publishers Corporation 


310-318 Sixth Avenue 




1 / 




o 





a • 




t 




V m i 



i 





* 




► 


4 * 



t 


4 




V 



CONTENTS 


CHAP. PAGE 

I. THE LASH OF CAIRO I 

II. ‘‘JE VOUS AIME” l8 

III. “ l’intrigant” . . .29 

IV. THE CASCADES . . . . . . . *44 

V. ADVERTISEMENT 54 

VI. A RACE FOR ZEPPA 64 

VII. BIG DISHES 75 

VIII. “MENAGERIE PIMENTO ” 82 

IX. MEMORIES 95 

X. AUKADAUBA IO3 

XI. "BECAUSE YOU ARE BLACK” . . . o .113 

XII. THE DINNER-PARTY I27 

XIII. FOR TWO FRANCS I59 

XIV. ZEPPA S HUNGER 164 

XV. A GLEAM OF SUNSHINE 168 

XVI. WITH “GOLDEN MIRA ” I75 

XVII. “MY MOTHER HAS EATEN ALL THE DATES*’ . . 186 

XVIII. MONSIEUR LOU OF CAIRO I93 


X 


CONTENTS 


CHAP 

XIX. GUIGNOL . 

XX. THE SLAVE MARKET . 
XXL THE GREAT DARKNESS 

XXII. LOU’s HEAVEN . 

XXIII. LOU S HONOURS . 


PAGE 
. 202 

. 217 

. 241 

• 254 

[ 261 


INTRODUCTION 


The author of Lou^ though not a young man, is 
young as an author. He is not yet known 
throughout Europe, like a Bjornson or a Valera. 
The makers of dictionaries have not yet dis- 
covered him, and for most of the particulars which 
I am able to give I am indebted to his own good- 
nature. Baron von Roberts has obliged me with 
a short autobiographical sketch, and from it I 
borrow those facts the knowledge of which seems 
likely to increase our interest in reading his 
touching and curious novel. 

Alexander von Roberts was born on the 23 rd 
of August 1845 at Luxemburg. He is of English 
parentage, for his great-grandfather, the first Baron, 
was our Consul-General in Dantzig, who settled in 
Pomerania, and was ennobled by Frederick the 
Great. His mother’s family is French, and Baron 
von Roberts is another instance of the frequency 
with which talent is displayed by men of mixed 


VI 


INTRODUCTION 


race. He was educated at Luxemburg and in 
Paris, where he lived till he was called to Coblenz, 
to enter the Prussian army, in 1864. His dream 
from childhood had been to become a soldier by 
profession, and it was a deep disappointment to 
him to arrive just too late to take part in the war 
against Denmark. 

. His baptism of blood, however, came soon 
enough. In his twenty-first year he fought 
through the Bohemian campaign, and saw active 
service in the battle of Sadowa. When peace was 
proclaimed with Austria, von Roberts proceeded 
to Berlin, and from 1867 to 1869 was immersed 
in his studies at the Military Academy of that 
city. He left it to take part in the Franco- 
German war, and stayed in France until July 
1871, when he proceeded to Cologne, where he 
was an officer in the garrison for about three 
years. Arrived at the age of thirty, and deter- 
mined to make soldiering the interest of his life, 
he thought it well to see the world before settling 
down to the routine of his profession. In 1874 
and 1875 he was travelling widely in Italy and 
the East, and residing in Rome. A volume of 
Tiirkische Interna (“ Turkish Interiors ”) resulted 
from this wanderjahr. Returning at length to 
Germany, Baron von Roberts became professor at 


INTRODUCTION 


vii 


the War School at Erfurt, and for many years was 
occupied with purely military studies. 

A chance led him, in mature life, to imaginative 
writing. In 1882 a Vienna newspaper offered a 
prize for the best short story, to be published in 
its feuilleton, Baron von Roberts was persuaded 
to compete, and sent in the tale called Es (“ It ”) 
which has since been so widely read. It not only 
received the prize, but produced a considerable 
sensation. The lucky author was pestered with 
requests to pursue the same original and telling 
vein, and he allowed himself to be persuaded into 
doing so. His short stories soon obtained a very 
wide vogue. He collected them in successive 
volumes : Es und Anderes (“ It and other Tales ”), 
1882; Die Pensiondrin (“ The Female Pensioner ”), 
1884; Unmusikalisch und Anderes (“Unmusical 
and other Tales”), 1886; and Satisfaction und 
Anderes (“ Satisfaction and other Tales ”). He was 
called the creator of the German short story. 

Baron von Roberts was past forty before he 
ventured upon a work of any magnitude. His 
first novel, Lou, which is here given to the English 
public, was written for Die Neue Freie Presse in 
1886. It has been followed by Um den Namen, 
(“For the Name’s Sake”) 1887; Revanche, 
1889; and (“ Awarded the Prize”) 


viii 


INTRODUCTION 


1890. As soon as his literary work began to be 
popular, Baron von Roberts quitted his profes- 
sorial chair at Erfurt, and having married in 1886, 
settled, after many wanderings in the South of 
Europe, in Berlin, where he now resides. He is 
at this moment one of the most active and most 
popular of the novelists of Germany. 


Edmund Gosse. 


LOU 

CHAPTER I. 

THE LASH OF CAIRO. 

The air struck close and heavy as Lou opened 
the doors of his master’s rooms that morning. 
And what was this peculiar faint odour — partly 
of cigar smoke from the night before, partly of 
the fumes of the dying lamp, and partly — some- 
thing else ? 

Lou, whose scent is keen as a bloodhound’s, 
sniffs in vain to discover what that something can 
be. Surely not powder ? 

The heavy window curtains were closed ; a 
golden brown twilight enveloped everything, ex- 
cept where one curtain was cleft by a straight 
white line of light. 

With his bare feet, noiselessly as a cat, his 
unusually small head stretched forward as if on 

A 


2 


LOU 


the scent, Lou crept towards this line of light. 
As he threw the curtains wide and his eyes 
became accustomed to the blinding flood of light 
which streamed in, he noticed a small, flat, blue- 
grey cloud float slowly away from the door 
leading into the Marquis’s bedroom. The cloud 
fluttered and vanished with the movement of the 
curtain. 

Lou listened. The door stood half open, but 
there was no sound from the other side; even 
Zeppa’s wise nose and sharply alert eyes, which 
usually appeared from behind the portihre^ were 
missing to-day. 

Something must be wrong ! 

Hesitating — very cautiously, for fear of waking 
his master — Lou opened the tall windows. Ah— 
what a delicious rush of air and light ! Paris lay 
stretched out under the chaste luminous mist of 
an early spring morning, the whole vast horizon 
outlined in jagged waves of houses — Paris, 
nothing but Paris, as far as the eye could reach. 
Close by, the pale slate-blue gables glittering wet 
with night dew, then a sea of piled-up, interlaced 
roofs toned down to an ever fainter blue, and 
shading off* through delicate violet to the glorified 
rosy haze which overspread the distant parts of 
the city. The sun, a sharply defined, glowing 


THE LASH OF CAIRO 


5 


white disc, shone with a curious flickering motion 
through a silver-grey mist, but flashed from the 
cupola of the Invalides in glittering rays — a 
foretaste of the glory which was to fill the day. 

Paris was beginning to awake. A few carts 
rattled along with hard metallic thumps — a 
military march sounded out of the distance, now 
almost swallowed up by the narrow streets, now 
clashing out in ringing melody. With shrill cries 
a huckster offered vegetables, while down in 
the winter-brown garden, with its sparse sprink- 
ling of green, the sparrows chirped and twittered 
in unconcerned and noisy chorus. 

Lou stood there, lightly drumming his slender, 
childishly formed fingers on the gilded balustrade 
in time to the music. His blue-and-white 
striped shirt was thrown open, disclosing a con- 
siderable portion of the dark-brown chest with its 
coppery gleams. In the hollow of his throat an 
indigo-blue sign was tattooed, and lower down 
hung a brightly fringed amulet-bag. The teeth, 
which might have been cut from two compact 
blocks of ivory, shone with startling whiteness. 
It was altogether a handsome Nubian head — 
almost Caucasian in the refinement of its lines. 
The dull, slightly woolly hair was densely thick, 
only permitting of the shortest attempt at a 


4 


LOV 


fashionable parting just above the firmly modelled 
forehead ; right across one nostril ran the scar of 
a slashing wound. 

How old was Lou ? Nobody knew — himself 
least of all. The mysterious hieroglyphics on his 
throat might have afforded some information, if 
they could have been deciphered ; midway between 
man and boy — tall and slender, with long sinewy 
limbs whose movements still retained some of the 
ungainliness of growth. 

Paris ! How Lou loved Paris ! He was no 
longer afraid of it, as he was in those first days. 

Do you remember, Lou, how you arrived four 
years ago with your master, the Marquis de Breteu- 
illes, at the Gare du Sud ? It was a night in 
December, and it was raining — rattling down upon 
the glass roof of the station, driving icy-cold in 
the faces of those who came out. Dripping — 
gurgling — gushing — nothing but rain, never-ending 
rain. As you stood there shuddering with cold, 
your master had compassion on you and gave 
you a seat in his carriage. Compassion ? Well, 
you would not expose a high-bred dog for which 
you have just paid a good price to such weather 
either. 

How much had he cost the Marquis? Lou 
only knew that his former owner in Cairo had 


THE LASH OF CAIRO 


5 


pocketed a heap of shining coin ; he himself had 
received as a parting gift a cut of the lash across 
his back ; with a howl of pain the boy had entered 
into his new service. 

Cairo — at the thought of Cairo he felt again 
the sting of that slashing stroke: — the last of a 
long succession of biting, snapping, whistling cuts. 
How often would he not have changed places 
with one of the little shabby brown donkeys he 
had to look after ! They at least were allowed 
to feed and rest when their work was over. 

But that is past and done with long ago. 
Cairo lies far away down there, across the cruel, 
rocking sea, which nearly shook the soul out of 
his body in his passage over it. Now all is well 
— now he would not exchange with any donkey 
in the whole world — not even the proudest^ 
grandest one of the harem with its embroidered 
trappings and gold-trimmed head-gear. The 
Marquis is so kind, and the pretty little riding- 
whip which, in moments of impatience, he some- 
times takes down from the wall, is but a teasing 
plaything ; it is only used to warn Lou not to be too 
high-spirited — not to quite forget the lash of Cairo. 

Hark! A whine comes from the next room. 
It is the dog. But it is not the short, sharp, 
joyous bark with which the hound is wont to greet 


6 


LOU 


the Nubian. Lou listens with ears and eyes, his 
nostrils quivering — but an uncanny, long-drawn, 
slowly expiring cry of woe. Lou springs to his 
full height ! 

Something has happened — last night — this 
moment ! With a few hurried strides he is at the 
door. 

In there too there is a golden gloom, and at 
first, with all his sharp sight, Lou can distinguish 
nothing but a tumbled heap on the floor near the 
table. That was never there before. 

A second or two of intensest listening, and then 
a lightning flash darts from the yellowish white 
of Lou’s eyes. In the sudden shock of terror, he 
throws the door wide with a jerk that makes it 
creak and groan upon its hinges for some time 
afterwards. The light of day shines in upon it 
all. 

‘‘ Moussou ! Moussou ! ” comes tremulously over 
Lou’s pallid lips. 

He tries to call the name aloud, but he seems 
turned to stone — motionless as a statue ; his head 
and shoulders stretched forward in an attitude of 
intense alertness, he stands devouring with starting, 
terror-stricken eyes the horror before him. 

A chair has been pushed back from the table. 
On the dark red velvet seat lies a white, waxen 


THE LASH OF CAIRO 7 

face. The head violently thrown back, as if 
broken from the body — motionless. The reddened 
lids only partially veil the eyes, gleaming glassily 
from beneath them. The lips under the slight, 
gaily twirled moustache are firmly pressed together 
— perfectly bloodless — with a curious expression 
half smile, half pain, at the corners. 

The body leans against the chair just as it 
must have been arrested in its heavy fall. One 
hand hangs limply down, something glittering in 
it — a pistol ! Lou recognises it as the wonderful 
chef-d'ceuvre of chased silver which hung by the 
Marquisas bed. The weapon dangles loosely 
between two fingers. 

The other hand lies across the bared breast, on 
which the shirt is slightly torn. The hand is a 
little curved — it had not time to reach the spot 
it tried to grasp ; it stiffened as it clutched. 
That spot is a small dark hole in the left side — 
just over the heart — from which two thin black 
threads trickle down, each congealed further on 
in a large clot. 

And there crouches the great Danish hound, 
close to his master’s corpse. One white paw is 
laid upon the shot-pierced breast, and with it he 
is making strange, human, groping movements as 
if trying to help — as if to awaken the sleeper. 


s 


LOU 


A questioning terror gleams in the wide-open 
brown eyes. The long dun-coloured tail beats 
slowly backwards and forwards on the floor with 
a hollow thud. And now the broad neck is 
stretched, the long head lifted up, and the jaws 
quiver as though they would give forth a howl ; 
but nothing comes but a hoarse choking whine. 

“ Moussou ! Moussou ! ...” As if paralysed by 
fright, Lou sinks down opposite to the dog ; with 
trembling hands he touches the limbs of the dead. 

Something falls. Lou gives a great start ! It 
was the pistol slipping out of the dead fingers — 
the sole moving thing about that stiffened form. 

And now — surely there was a movement in 
the waxen face ? It was but the dancing reflec- 
tion of a window over the way. 

Louder and louder grows Lou’s despairing cry, 
‘‘ Moussou 1 ” Zeppa’s tail strikes ever harder on 
the floor. At last, in mutual woe, they howl 
together across that quiet face. 

But still no movement — no answer. 

Suddenly, as at a given signal, they stop 
appalled by their own voices, and stare at one 
another — helpless in their horror : Zeppa seek- 
ing comfort of Lou, and Lou seeking comfort of 
Zeppa. 

And now a shuddering dread falls upon Lou — 


THE LASH OF CAIRO 


9 


it is all so strange, so inexplicable. He springs 
to his feet and darts out, screaming for help. 

“ Moussou dead ! Moussou dead ! ” his despair- 
ing cry rings through the house. 

Very soon the apartment is thronged with 
people — a whispering, hustling crowd from the 
arriere logis and the surrounding neighbour- 
hood — with inquisitive, almost maliciously de- 
lighted faces. 

An old gentleman, with a yellow face and 
snowy white hair, shrugs his one high shoulder 
from time to time and takes a portentous pinch 
of snuff. It is the doctor. 

They raise the dead man and lay him on the 
bed ; in doing so something falls to the ground. 
Lou snatches at it — it is a locket. Something of 
the greed of his race for glittering things 
prompts him to conceal the ornament, but some- 
thing too of intuition, which tells him that this 
locket was very dear to his master, and that some 
day it may have the charmed properties of an 
amulet for him. 

While they lay him out in state, the people 
disperse themselves about the salon ; how thrilling 
to discover what some one has done, has written 
or thought in the last hours before he forces open 
the doors into another world ! With an agreeable 


lO 


LOU 


prickling sensation of horror they spy about 
among the objects on the writing-table. 

There in a costly Japanese vase flaunt a few 
magnificent full-blown tea-roses — an old red-nosed 
woman cannot resist sniffing at them : have they 
any fragrance left, or has their breath ceased with 
the breath of the silent man lying on the bed in 
there ? Three candles of the candelabra are quite 
burnt down, a gust of wind must have suddenly 
extinguished the fourth — maybe, that man’s last 
sigh before he did the deed. Bubbles are still 
rising in a half-filled champagne glass, but they 
float upwards slowly like great tears — in keeping 
with the sombre oppression of the moment. 

“ Ten minutes past four,” whispers somebody — 
a commiSy with a boyish face surmounting a cream- 
coloured cravat. 

In truth, the hands of the gold watch propped 
against an open box of cartridges, do point to ten 
minutes past four. Some eyes are turned towards 
it with as keen an interest as if they were watch- 
ing the circling spokes of a wheel of fortune : is 
the watch going or has it stopped ? 

“They do say,” observes she of the red nose, 
“ that a person’s watch runs down when he dies — 
it stops with the last beat of his heart. . . 

“ One simply forgets to wind it up on such an 


THE LASH OF CAIRO 


11 


occasion, Madame Glaure,” rejoins the oily voice 
of Monsieur Floques the barber. ‘‘And, indeed, 
why take the trouble ? ” The unctuous superior 
smile of the coffee-house philosopher plays round 
the wide mouth and smooth shiny face. 

A feminine hand is forward enough to lift the 
little pale brown glove, crushed and crumpled as 
if in a sudden burst of rage, from the open Elzeviir 
on which it lies. 

“ He knew how to live — he did,” says Monsieur 
Floques, pointing with his thumb at the glove, 
and winking one eye expressively. 

“ Alfred de Musset,” lisps a literary lady’s-maid, 
who has deciphered this important item from the 
title-page. She is enraptured by the discovery. 

“ He could write verses as well as de Musset,” 
continued Monsieur Floques. “ I knew them all 
— capital verses, I can tell you : I shaved him 
every day — splendid rhythm ! ” 

“ It has stopped ! ” blurts out the commis, break- 
ing the whispering stillness. “The watch has 
stopped ! ” Having made sure of this he is 
perfectly happy. 

“ I knew it,” murmurs Madame Glaure with 
superstitous relish; “such things happen con- 
stantly.” 

At that moment a fat hand, which had long 


12 


LOU 


been watching its opportunity, pushes aside the 
Elzevir as if by accident, and discloses the letters 
which lie beneath it. Every eye falls gloatingly 
upon the addresses. 

Now the barber knows — knows everything — 
the fraction of a glance at the first address makes 
it clear as daylight to him. Not that he had any 
intention of looking at this address — oh 1 dear no 
— he is much too discreet ! With an imposing, 
theatrical wave of the hand, he turns the letter 
over and covers it with his great bony fist. 

“ Aliens ! my friends,” he cries, with the in- 
dignation of extreme honesty, “we all have our 
secrets ! ” 

Then after a short pause — “ If one might say 

so ; but — de mortuis nil ni how does it go ? 

You know, gentlemen, a famous epitaph.” 

In the end, however, he cannot keep his secret. 
Lou listens, trying to gather some meaning from 
the various hints that filter through the man’s 
gossip. But he understands nothing; he only 
hears an oft-recurring name, and it is a woman’s. 
Oh, they know all about it — not a heart-beat in the 
whole affair which bound the Marquis to a certain 
lady has escaped Monsieur Floques’s penetration. 

“ For a woman’s sake, then ! ” exclaims Madame 
Glaure, thirsting for details. 


THE LASH OF CAIRO 


13 


“ My dear lady, that is not uncommon in 
Paris,” answers the barber with a self-satisfied 
smirk of superior wisdom. “ Que voulez vous f 
he wrote verses ! ” 

“ It was stronger than he ! ” burst in the 
young man with the cream-coloured necktie. 

For some woman’s sake, then, the Marquis had 
put the pistol to his heart ! Yes — that does 
occur in Paris : in Cairo nobody would think of 
killing themselves for a woman. 

If Lou had been a grand, high-born “ Moussou,” 
he, too, might have killed himself for a woman. 

However, that is over long ago. It is a dese- 
cration to remember one’s own troubles at such a 
moment. “ Poor Moussou ! ” he sighs, “ poor 
Moussou ! ” 

“ Ah, here is our nigger ! Well, mon vieuxy 
and what does he know about it ? ” asks Mon- 
sieur Floques sharply. 

Lou shakes his head. What should he know ! 

“ Did he hear nothing — see nothing — notice 
nothing } One has eyes and ears like other 
people although one’s skin is black ! ” 

“ Rien I ” says Lou, and it sounds like a 
heavy sigh. “ Rien ! ” 

Lou was sleeping stretched out as usual on the 
white bear-skin in the anteroom. While he 


14 


LOU 


slept, a foot had touched him in passing, no 
doubt that of his master. In the few moments 
that followed, between waking and sleeping, he 
fancied he saw his master’s figure through the 
door, standing at the open window. 

There was a bluish shimmer of moonlight in 
the salon, and white gleams came from the edges 
of the furniture and from the great leaves of the 
plants. The silhouette of the Marquis stood out 
sharply against the silvery sky, — at first stand- 
ing up straight, then with bowed head, his face 
buried in his hands. The door creaked softly in 
the slight breeze. A moan came from the direc- 
tion of the window, half drowned by the creaking 
of the door. Suddenly grey gloom swept out all 
the points of light. Lou shuddered as if with 
cold. But the form of the Marquis had vanished 
into the darkness of that passing cloud. 

“ And there was no shot ? — no cry ? — no fall } 
— no groan ? ” 

“ Rien ! ” answered Lou. 

How hopeless, unspeakably hopeless, it sounds! 
Perhaps he might have been able to tell them the 
little he knew, had he possessed more knowledge 
of the language. But “ rien ” is all he can bring 
over his intractable tongue. 

Several times during the course of the day he 


THE LASH OF CAIRO 


15 


was asked for information, but could give no 
other answer. Once it was a little bent lady 
with trembling silvery curls on her brow, who 
tottered out of the death chamber on the arm 
of a tall gentleman ; they addressed her as 
Madame la Marquise. And from the perfumed 
folds of the lace pocket-handkerchief with which 
the lady covered her tear-drenched face came the 
same question. This time- his “ rieti ” was even 
less clear and intelligible than before, as if the 
word, small as it was, stuck in his throat and 
choked him. The gentleman pressed a gold coin 
into his hand as they left. 

The police, too, failed to get anything out 
of him. After the furniture had been sealed 
and an inventory taken of every article, the 
party chanced upon Lou, and shot short, sharp, 
rough questions at him. What was his name } 
— who was he ? — where did he come from 1 
— where was he going to ? — what did he 
mean 1 

“ Moussou dead ! ” stammered Lou. 

How idiotic ! They knew that — they could see 
that for themselves ! 

A little fat man, with long strands of hair glued 
to the polished surface of his cranium, was appa- 
rently at his wits’ end. “ What are we to do with 


i6 


LOU 


him ? ” he rasped out in a voice like the clattering 
of sticks. 

“ Rien ! ” it came mechanically. 

“ And that’s the best thing too,” said the little 
man as he impatiently pushed up his flashing 
spectacles. 

In the evening, Lou sat cowering in a corner of 
the back staircase. In his hand he held the 
locket, which sparkled in the yellow gaslight 
streaming in through a little round window. He 
twisted and turned the trinket from side to side, 
examining it again and again with the utmost 
care. 

If he could only open it ! It had lain against 
his master’s heart — they found the broken ribbon 
still hanging round his neck. The shot had 
grazed it, and it was slightly crushed. It would 
not open, and Lou did not like to force it. 

How silent it was out here upon the stairs! 
From the courtyard came the thud of horses’ hoofs, 
and a groom sang mournfully to the scraping 
accompaniment of the curry-comb. The dull roll 
of the carriages rose from the street, and now and 
then, as a heavier vehicle rattled past, the whole 
house trembled with the staircase upon which 
Lou sat. 

He never remembered having felt this trembling 


THE LASH OF CAIRO 


17 


before. Was the ground rocking beneath his 
feet ? 

But there was yet another sound through it all. 
Where did it come from — what was it It had 
rung in Lou’s ears since the morning, and he 
could not get rid of it. With a sharp whiz it cut 
through the air, and drew back again with a shrill 
whistling jerk. As it grew louder, Lou’s back 
arched involuntarily. 

Ah, the awful lash of Cairo ! In weird 
serpentine curves it hissed about his head. The 
name of that great lash is Fate — and it was upon 
him again ! Lou’s heart contracted with a dark 
foreboding. 

A dog barked in the courtyard — Zeppa’s ringing 
voice. 

“ Ah, Zeppa ! Zeppa ! ” cried Lou joyfully. 
Hastily concealing his locketin his amulet-bag — the 
receptacle too for his small savings — he bounded 
down the stairs. 

Zeppa was his friend ! The only friend he had 
in the world now that the others had forsaken 
him — his dead Moussou upstairs — and she, “ for 
whom he might have killed himself had he been a 
gentleman.” 

He would pour out all his griefs to Zeppa — he 
understood him — the dog understood him. 

B 


CHAPTER II. 

‘‘JE VOUS AIME” 

It was four years ago, a few days after his arrival 
in Paris, that Lou first met her. 

It happened in a narrow passage in the house, 
as they both turned a corner sharply in opposite 
directions, each bound on some hurried mission. 
They drew up short, each startled by the other. 
The blackamoor, starting up suddenly before her 
in the half-dark, might have been some unholy 
apparition. How weirdly the broad-grinning 
ivory of his teeth, with the bright red strip of 
tongue between, gleamed out from the dusky brown 
of his face ! Positively, a sort of ghostly phos- 
phorescent light emanated from that mouth, while 
in the large black hollows of the eyes there was 
no trace of white to be seen ; only two tiny sparks 
of light glittered there. 

She was just crossing the broad shaft of noon- 
day sunshine which streamed down from a top 


**JE VOUS AIME 


19 


window of the corridor, sharply defined and alive 
with dancing specks of golden dust. In that 
glaring light her red hair blazed before him like a 
torch. He had never seen anything like it ; waves 
of living fire she carried on her head ! The light 
breeze fanned the loosened locks into flickering 
tongues of flame around the tiny face — one almost 
heard them hiss and crackle. 

The unquenchable, glowing depths of red in her 
hair seemed to have absorbed every other trace 
of colour out of the delicate face, so pale were the 
cheeks, and the eyes so like two bright colourless 
diamonds in the strong light. 

She gave a little shriek — his rows of teeth 
broadened and grew more glittering white. 

At this the Paris gamin in the little girl broke 
out. She burst into a peal of laughter which 
echoed through the long corridor, and with her 
little pert nose in the air she gazed unabashed 
into his astonished face. 

Yes, monsieur ! she too had teeth that were 
worth showing ; but straight rows of little sharp 
pearls which were made for laughing — not great 
nutcrackers like yours, monsieur ! 

With a mocking curtsey and a politely intoned 
“ Monsieur ! ” she slipped past him, leaving him 
spell-bound as if he had seen a vision. 


LOV 


He had certainly been far more startled by her 
than she by him. Bah ! what a lot of black men 
there are in Paris, even without counting those in 
the cigar-shops ! But still one would like to 
examine this stick of a savage a little closer. 

“To our next merry meeting ! ” she called after 
him. 

That next meeting occurred in the courtyard. 
She had had the ill-luck to upset the wooden 
bowl of beads she was going to thread — her daily 
occupation — all over the wet flags. Out of the 
den w'here her father the cobbler patched up the 
most wretched shoes in Paris whizzed a leather 
strap, which descended smartly on the tender 
shoulders of the half-fledged girl, making her cry 
out and writhe with pain. 

Lou, who was just crossing the courtyard, 
winced as if he had received the blow. Stay — 
here was a connecting link ! pain made them akin. 
All his shyness of the little firebrand vanished 
from that moment. 

As she stooped to repair the mischief, he, with- 
out a moment’s hesitation, knelt down too and 
began laboriously picking up the fallen beads. 
It was no easy task — the gay specks rolled away 
from under his clumsy fingers as if they were be- 
witched. As he shook his head in desperation, 


JE VOUS AIME 


21 


she could not help laughing, in spite of the pain 
which still burned across her shoulders. 

It happened that in the heat of their work 
they bumped their heads together. Her laughter 
shrilled out like the sudden stroke of a bell. But 
he was greatly disconcerted, and remained on his 
knees, grinning broadly at her. 

“ How stupid he looks ! ” thought she, “ but a 
good-hearted fellow ! ” 

Three times on the following night when Lou 
slept upon his bear-skin did he start up, wakened 
by the sound of a bell. The Marquis’s door-bell 
had a very different tone — much lower, more 
muffled, not so silvery clear. He rubbed his 
eyes, and throwing back his head upon its 
accustomed pillow — the great bear’s head — he 
tittered to himself ; why, it was Lili’s laughter he 
had heard in his dreams ! 

Something of the little mother awoke in her. 
What if she were to take him in hand and lick 
him — this savage — into a more presentable shape ? 
Should she teach him to enjoy the air of Paris in 
its widest sense ? Would it not be possible to 
turn the jaw-breaking gibberish which he could 
only have learned in a cage at the “ Jardin d’Accli- 
mitation ” into decent French ? No doubt it would 
cost a world of trouble ; never mind, one would 


22 


LOU 


have to begin it in play. What a unique play- 
thing, and what an exciting game ! 

She proceeded to act upon this caprice. The 
lessons were most curious ; broken scraps of 
education thrown to him in passing, a variety of 
corrections which he was forced to adopt, whether 
he liked it or not— fragments of speeches, slang, 
exercises in pronunciation — all of which his teacher 
coaxed him into or forced upon him in her 
masterful way, in such quantities at last that he 
was fairly confused ; she literally stuffed him with 
learning. 

“ Not that way, Lou ! Like this — listen ! ” 
Whereupon she executed a series of oval, round, 
and pointed figures with her lips, representing the 
different letters — a long-drawn A, a hollow O, a 
most insinuating I ; helping herself out with her 
fingers — snapping them around in the air, or, 
when things went too badly, clapping her little 
clenched fists together. 

At first the teaching seemed to have been 
arranged for the sole purpose of her practising 
that solfeggio-like laugh. But he really was too 
clumsy with those thick lips of his, which one 
couldn’t have kissed — no, not for the whole world ! 
His teeth stood in his mouth like a stone wall. 

“ Any one can eat with them, Lou, but you must 


JE VOUS AIMS 


23 


Speak ! ” and she tapped her forefinger on her own 
fascinating little teeth. 

However, she did not lose patience. 

“ Monsi — eur — s’il vous — plait.” 

Clearer than that — each syllable ringing as 
sharply as a coin — it was impossible to have the 
words pronounced for you. 

“Mou — ssou — ” began Lou — a good thick 
Mou — ssou ! ” 

“ Capital ! well done ! ” she scoffed at him in 
between. 

“ But, Lou ! it is so simple, just listen now. 
It’s not Mou — ssou, but Monsieur — etiy my good 
fellow, not ou. Now, once more.” 

Lou came out again with his “ Moussou ! ” 

“Oh, Lou, you are too funny! No — it’s enough 
to make one die of laughing to see the faces he 
makes.” 

She clapped both her little hands to his mouth. 
“ But you mustn’t bite, Moussou,” she laughed. 
And “ Moussou 1 Moussouou ! ” she called after 
him far up the stairs as he hurried away. 

For all that, he made progress. ^ After some 
months of this backstairs schooling he could at 
least make himself partially understood. But the 
lessons came to an abrupt standstill before an ob- 
stacle, and that obstacle consisted of three words. 


24 


LOU 


It happened in the stable, in the midst of the 
hopping rabbits and the stamping of horses’ 
hoofs. 

“ Lou, pay attention — something new ! ” And 
standing close before him, with a roguish glance, 
she cast three words at the earnest, listening face 
with its mouth open to devour this fresh piece of 
wisdom. 

“ Je vous aime ! Je vous aime, Lou ! ” That 
seemed very difficult to him — he made a convul- 
sive effort. 

“ He looks for all the world as if he were going 
to swallow a snake,” she thought to herself. 

She repeated it once more, slapping the satin 
back of the horse beside which she stood. 

“ Je — vous — aime ! ” and slap — slap — slap after 
each word, with a ringing smack at the end as a 
full-stop. The horse did not quite like it. 

Lou began to imitate her. 

“ Shou — ” came hissing through the wide, fish- 
like, projecting lips. “ Shou — Fou ! ” with a 
blast that would have extinguished a furnace. 
Finally, the whole “ Shou — Fou — Zaime ! ” And 
again, rather more fluently, “ Shou — Fou — 
Zaime ! ” 

This time she only smiled, funny as it sounded. 

** Lou, do you know what it means ? ” she 


VOUS AIME 


25 


asked, with her face still closer to his, a faint 
quivering coming and going between her brows 
and playing round her little nose and mouth. 

He shook his head. “ Rien^' said he. 

“ Do you know what that means } That is 
what it is, Lou.” She patted her own heart, and 
then pointed to his. 

Still he did not understand, making incredibly 
stupid eyes. 

“Je VOUS aime !” she cried, repeating the pan- 
tomime, and kissing the back of her hand with ? 
meaning glance. 

Over and over again she did it — quicker and 
quicker ; then suddenly turned upon her heel and 
scampered off after a snow-white rabbit. 

It was a w'ild chase into every corner, away 
over the heaped-up bundles of hay, into the granary 
till the oats pelted down like hai), in and out be- 
tween the very feet of the horses she clutched at 
the skipping little animal. The horses grew 
restless and tugged at their halters, the grizzly 
old bear of a groom growled in his deepest bass, 
cans and pails were upset, giving a long droning 
echo. And above all this turmoil fluttered the 
lark-like trill of her silvery laugh, broken now 
and then by her wanton Je vous aime ! Je vous 
aime ! ” 


26 


LOU 


At last she managed to catch the wriggling 
creature, and, holding it tight in her arms, she 
gazed tenderly — oh, so tenderly — into its bleared 
pink eyes. 

“ Je vous aime, mon petit ! ” and she pressed 
loud resounding kisses on its flesh-coloured nose. 

Glancing just then at Lou, she was so startled 
that she nearly let the rabbit fall. What had 
come over him ? 

A sombre flame shot from his dark eyes, and 
his sensitive nostrils quivered violently, as if to 
prelude an outburst of African savagery. 

Yes, he understood her at last! He knew 
what “je vous aime” meant, and a secret fear 
possessed her that he would convert the words all 
too plainly into deeds. 

Alas ! he had given his heart for a few French 
phrases. Between spelling and laughter — at the 
foot of the stairs — in the creaking doorway — to 
the slapping of the carpet-beater — while the broom 
swept over the courtyard pavement, he had lost 
it, bit by bit. And now that she had possessed 
herself of this simplest of human hearts, was she 
going to play with it as a child plays with a sugar 
heart, only to bite into it at last with its sharp 
little teeth ? 

No ; the coquette in this budding little Parisian 


JE VOUS AIME 


27 


was not quite ripe for that. But she had begun 
to try her strength, and an idea rose up dimly 
before her, that she would one day be called upon 
to break many a more complicated and storm- 
proof heart than this. 

After this there was never a word between 
them of a similar explanation. 

On the evening after the occurrence in the 
stables, Lou was sitting on his heels in front of 
the great bear’s head which served him for a 
pillow, deep in thought, staring at the glass eyes 
glittering in the candle-light, at the great jaws 
lined with scarlet cloth and the terribly forbidding 
fangs. A ceaseless murmur came from his lips 
labouring in mute activity to produce certain 
words, but in vain. 

A hot breath swept across his shoulder. He 
started guiltily. It was Zeppa who had crept in 
noiselessly over the carpet and now proceeded to 
snuff at the bear’s head. The dog broke into a 
suppressed bark. 

It really seemed as though Lou were ashamed 
— he was shy of the dog. What an uncom- 
fortably penetrating gaze he had — an almost 
human tone sounded through his baying. 

The blood rushed to the Nubian’s face — the 
dog had surprised him in something foreign to 


28 


LOU 


his nature — something which he did not fathom 
himself. With unwonted emotion he clasped his 
arms about the hound’s broad neck, leaning his 
iiead against the warm coat, and so held him for 
a while in an almost tender embrace. 

But later on, when he lay stretched upon his 
bear-skin, a senseless, foolish little question kept 
running in his head between waking and sleep- 
ing : Were there perhaps dogs with better hearts 
than some human beings ? 


CHAPTER HI. 

“ l’intrigant.” 

From that day a great friendship sprang up 
between Lou and Zeppa. 

Lili was not at all pleased. Had she not 
gradually risen in the eyes of the Nubian to the 
position of a bright and dazzling idol ? And she 
knew that with the sacrificial spirit of his race he 
would cheerfully let himself be cut in pieces for 
the idol he adored. Was she now to be cast 
down from her altar — nay, even pushed aside one 
hand’s-breadth, by — a dog } A pretty state of 
things, indeed ! — against every law of Nature and 
fitness. But after all he was a barbarian, ** and 
with such people you never know ” 

She was determined therefore to assert her 
position with all the force of her obstinate will. 
She was kind to him, and began to look after 
him like a real mother. 

In this she was egged on by vanity, but 


30 


LOU 


through that vanity there glowed a tiny flame of 
gratitude. Behold — this pitiable, dark-skinned 
heathen, without a home in the world, passing 
from hand to hand for money like a chattel — 
here he was, bowing down in silent, touching 
adoration before her who was herself not much 
more than a chattel ! 

A fine specimen indeed to make an idol of — a 
red-haired thing which could not fail to call forth 
the cheap jeers of the gutter ; conspicuous by its 
delicate, almost sickly pallor, as if it must suffer 
under the weight of the luxuriant masses of that 
hair ; not exactly ugly, and yet not pretty ; wilful, 
with short defiant answers — untrained to any 
work. Ah, what tears she had shed about her 
red hair ! and tears always brought her drunken 
father’s strap into action. In truth, she was a 
poor, unenviable creature, and might well be 
grateful even for such a worshipper as Lou. 

Now she actually insisted on sauntering about 
the streets with him. Both drawn to their full 
height, they walked along as if each were proud 
of showing off the other. She made no further 
effort to repress the glowing abundance of her 
hair, or even to render it less remarkable by 
covering it in any way ; no, she let the waving 
locks flutter out behind her in the wind, and as 


31 


V INTRIGANT 

he too wore a glaring piece of red in the shape of 
a fez at the back of his head, the gamins of the 
neighbourhood would call after them, “ Look ! 
a pair of sorrels ! ” Then Lili’s eyes would 
dance with joy, while her little teeth gleamed in 
a laugh of perfect satisfaction. Lou was a good- 
looking fellow enough, she thought, with whom 
one need not be ashamed of showing oneself, 
and besides — how extra to be seen with a 
Nubian ! 

In the beginning Zeppa accompanied them. 
She permitted it, although she observed with 
growing displeasure how the attention of every 
passer-by was directed towards this wonderful 
prize specimen of a Danish hound ; and she 
reckoned that, as the attention of the public was 
now divided amongst the three of them, Lou and 
she were being done out of their proper share. 
This must be put a stop to. 

“ We will leave the dog at home ! ” she said in 
her usual tone, which came very near to being 
despotic. 

Lou shrugged his shoulders while he tried to 
keep the dog off, as he playfully sprang upon 
him. What was to be done.!* You could not 
chain up a good sensible dog like that, as if he 
were a common watch-dog. 


32 


LOU 


“ Well, let him come — I don’t care ! ” she said 
at last crossly. 

By degrees he grew troublesome. As the two 
walked along he tried to push in between them — 
at first almost imperceptibly, gaining ground so 
slowly that they did not think of preventing him 
till the massive grey-brown head with its black, 
polished, sharply cut nose and serious eyes rose 
up between them, and the white forepaws kept 
step with their feet. 

Then Lili began keeping very close to Lou, 
disputing the place with the animal ; it was no 
good, he always managed to seize an opportunity 
to squeeze himself into it again. They spoke 
kindly to him, they pushed him away by force ; 
all to no purpose, the next minute his hot breath 
would pant between them again. 

Each in their own fashion forbade him seriously; 
it made not the slightest impression on Zeppa, 
nor did he alter his peculiar tactics in any respect. 
Halting as it had been before, their conversation 
now came to an utter standstill ; the dog and his 
irritating ways occupied all their attention. 

It was almost laughable ! He was making 
game of them, this intrigant of a dog, as Lili 
called him. He meant to come between them, 
not only literally in their walks, but in their 


VINTRIGANT** 


33 


friendship too. Oh, it was not for nothing that 
he had wormed himself into Lou’s affection ; he 
wanted to alienate the Nubian from her. 

A feeling that looked strangely like jealousy 
began to torment the girl. She knew it was silly : 
she could not help laughing at herself. Was she 
in love with Lou that she should actually be 
jealous of the dog } 

She would put an end to it. The dog himself 
brought it about. 

One afternoon they were walking along the 
pavement of the Boulevard Haussmann, the dog 
as usual trotting between them, large and dignified, 
as if he were the most important of the three. 
All at once the broad neck stiffened, the docked 
ears quivered, and they both felt the blow of his 
tail against them. The next instant with great 
bounds Zeppa hurled himself upon a black 
Newfoundland, in whom he no doubt recognised 
an enemy. 

He dashed the girl and her companion aside as 
he sprang, Lili losing her balance and falling 
against a stout perspiring gentleman. A little 
boy was run down by the dog, and pointed with 
tears and complaints to the hole in his trousers. 
Everybody scolded, a crowd gathered round the 
fighting dogs, which now were mingled in one 

C 


34 


LOU 


horrid, struggling-, swaying ball, from which muffled 
bark and howls proceeded, while tufts of black and 
brown hair eddied around. 

Lou called and scolded, and tried to clutch at 
the infuriated animals to separate them. The 
crowd laughed. Let them fight it out ! ” they 
cried. 

At length they let go, snapped viciously once 
or twice at each other without biting, then, casting 
contemptuous side glances over their shoulders, 
they sloped off in opposite directions, their tails 
between their legs. 

Zeppa’s muzzle was covered with white, blood- 
flecked foam ; he gave himself a tremendous 
rustling shake as if he were going to throw off his 
entire dishevelled coat, and then proceeded to 
blow and sneeze till he had cleared his teeth of 
his enemy’s fur. His deep chest heaved stormily, 
and when Lou seized him by the collar, he bayed 
again, as if still in the heat of battle. 

But where was Lili } He looked in every 
direction, but could see no trace of the girl. She 
might have stood by him in the fray — they were 
equally responsible for the dog. With a presenti- 
ment of impending evil, he turned hastily home- 
wards with Zeppa. 

As he entered the courtyard, he saw Lili 


V INTRIGANT'* 


35 


standing at the pump, wielding the ponderous 
handle, a task which seemed to demand a vast 
amount of exertion. Her sleeves had slipped 
far back, disclosing the shining white arms ; her 
pliant figure swayed to and fro with the motion, 
and her heels tapped as her little feet rose and 
fell. 

He hastened to her side to help her, as he had 
often done before, but she turned upon him with 
flaming cheeks and flashing eyes, her teeth buried 
deep in her nether lip ; and with an unmistakable, 
half-contemptuous jerk of the shoulder rejected 
his help. 

Then she went furiously to work at the pump, 
till the water gushed out in an ever-broadening 
stream ; but evidently not enough for her, 
although the pail brimmed over long ago. The 
handle creaked aloud, and the water rushed with 
increasing force till it overflowed the little basin — 
it was as if she had opened the floodgates of her 
wrath. A wide stream poured over the flags of 
the courtyard, but the white arms never paused in 
their work. 

Presently up ran the dog to cool his hot steam- 
ing muzzle in the refreshing flood, lapping and 
swallowing noisily. 

That made her stop ; and then the storm 


36 


LOU 


burst. Half turning to Lou and tossing her hair 
back violently from her face, she cried in a voice 
husky with rage: '‘I’m going to speak very 
plainly, Lou ! — do you understand Things must 
be settled about that dog ! I won’t put up with 
it — do you hear > I will not be thrown aside to 
please — a Moussou — of a dog ! ” 

But at this point she was aware that the 
Nubian understood no more of what she was 
saying, than if it had been the rushing of the 
pump-water. She turned full upon him now, an 
angry line coming and going between her 
brows, as if he had been her worst enemy. 

Pointing to the dog with an imperious sweep 
of the arm, she said slowly — emphasising each 
syllable, “ Lou, either /ze or /. Do you under- 
stand me Her voice shook. 

Lou did not understand, and only stared at her, 
half startled, half amazed, and gently shook his 
head. 

“You need not glare at me! What I say, I 
mean — dasta ! If you don’t like it, you can leave 
it!” 

Alas ! he still did not understand ; neither the 
words nor the accompanying gestures. 

In a temper at having to take so much trouble 
to make her meaning clear she stamped her foot 


•*VINTRIGANT 


37 


upon the ground. Then she began again, this 
time quite slowly, each syllable sharp and pointed 
— cut and thrust. 

Lou ! — that — dog — there — go — with Lou or 
Lili — go — with — Lou ! Lou, choose — Lili or 
Zeppa ! ” and discharged the full measure of her 
wrath at him in one hissing Compris ? 

Then seizing the pail and pouring away some 
of its contents, she took no further notice of Lou 
and went away, taking very short quick steps, 
bending low on the left side under the weight of 
the pail, her other arm held out stiffly at right 
angles and swinging ostentatiously from side to 
side. 

Lou stood petrified, his eyes fixed upon the 
yawning blackness of the doorway through which 
the girl had vanished. He felt as though some- 
thing within him had suddenly been cleft in twain, 
and that neither half could possibly retain its 
vitality. 

“ Lili or Zeppa,” he murmured at last. What 
— all is over } Lili rien — and that the dog’s 
fault.?” 

A dog is but a dog, after all. Who cares for 
a dog ? One kicks him, beats him, or, if he is 
refractory, simply shoots him through the head. 

For one moment his memory reverted to the 


38 


LOU 


swarms of evil-smelHng pariah dogs of Cairo, who 
know no master and feed on offal. But that one 
— with his wise head reflected in the water while 
he drinks — surely he is more than a dog ! Would 
Moussou value him so highly and take such care 
of him if he were nothing more than an ordinary 
animal } 

On the other hand, Lili, is she not far above 
the rest of her sex — those women “ with much 
hair and little sense ” ? His idol to be torn from 
him — and by Zeppa! who, after all, wore the 
outward semblance of a dog with all the weak- 
nesses appertaining thereto. 

A faint smile played about his mouth, but a 
smile that was not natural to him — only a narrow 
strip of teeth gleamed between his lips — with 
something in it of scornful pity for himself, that 
he had been so near giving that dog so large a 
place in his heart. 

He turned away without vouchsafing another 
glance at the animal, and very slowly and thought- 
fully he crept upstairs. 

The Marquis was not at home. Lou was 
standing at the window of the bedroom still pon- 
dering deeply, when he heard a faint scratching 
at the door — it was the dog. The blood rushed 
to his face — Lili or Zeppa I 


**VINTRIGANT'* 


39 


The scratching continued. Lou pretended not 
to hear — he did not want to — and leaned out still 
further over the balustrade. 

Now it grew more urgent, accompanied by a 
low beseeching whimper. Still Lou did not stir, 
only he ground his teeth softly. He would show 
them who was to be master here — a man or a dog. 

The scratching now changed to an imperious 
knocking, till the door groaned again as the dog 
threw himself heavily against it, with a low half- 
angry growl. 

Then Lou arose, striking his hands impatiently 
upon the gilded railing. As he crossed the room, 
he chanced to catch sight of Moussou’s riding- 
whip. How it sparkled ! the eye was attracted 
to the handle as if by some magnetic power — one 
was forced to look at it. 

Suddenly he turned back three steps and stood 
close before that handle. His lips apart, but the 
teeth tightly clenched, his nostrils quivering, he 
stood as if enthralled, and gazed with longing eyes 
at the whip. 

He thought of the lash of Cairo, and felt again 
its stinging blow upon his shoulders. The hot 
blood surged to his head, and a sudden thirst for 
revenge, such as he had never felt before, seized 
upon him. 


40 


LOU 


Oh, to be able — only once — to play the master ! 
for half a minute — ^just for three strokes of the 
lash ! 

He had the whip in his hand ; with half-closed 
eyes he felt the fine engraving on the handle, 
passed his fingers down the slim length of the 
thong. A stroke whistled through the air — a 
second one — it sounded like a scream. Lou’s 
eyes glittered ; that stroke seemed to break the 
tension — it was like a cry of relief! 

Outside, the door shook so violently under the 
dog’s furious onslaught, that it threatened to burst 
in. Lou hastened to open it, whip in hand. 

He was not going to strike Zeppa — oh, no — he 
would not beat the dog ; but when it rushed in 
tempestuously, still excited from the recent fight 
and the unsuccessful knocking at the door, he was 
overcome by sudden fury at the recollection of 
what had passed, and he let the whip whiz down 
upon Zeppa’s back — twice — three times— again 
and again, from a greater height, harder and 
harder as each stroke fanned his fury to an 
intenser pitch. 

At first Zeppa could not believe he was in 
earnest ; barking and gambolling, he tried to resist 
the first few blows ; then, as a harder one came 
crashing down, a long-drawn howl escaped him, 


VINTRIGANT^* 


41 


till he writhed upon the floor with low and piteous 
whines. 

Why did he not flee from the blows } Instead 
of that he only crawled nearer and nearer ; this 
puzzled Lou. The dog pressed closer, and now, 
strange to say, it was Lou who slowly receded. 
The whip, though still raised threateningly, struck 
no further blow. 

Before Lou could put the whip back in its 
place, he was stricken with remorse for what he 
had done ; it burned like fire in his hand ; he 
hastened to hang it up again, and then stood 
there bowed down by shame. At intervals a long- 
drawn sigh came from the next room — it sounded 
like a reproach. 

He ought not to have done it. Was it not his 
affection for Lou which had led the dog to be so 
importunate ? 

It is true, Lili wished it ; but must one always 
obey Lili ? Alas ! poor Lou — yes, one must. 

If he could but scourge himself and so atone 
for what he had dene ! He could not bear those 
sighs, and hurried out to make his peace with the 
dog. 

He found him lying on the floor with out- 
stretched fore-paws, his head laid flat upon them, 
breathing heavily. As Lou approached, he only 


42 


LOU 


raised his eyes, but raised them higher and higher 
till a half-moon of white was visible beneath the 
dark iris — a thing which seldom happened. It 
was a mute, sad, earnest look. The sighs then 
ceased. 

Lou would have stooped to stroke the dog with 
a few propitiating words, but Zeppa’s eyes said — 
no. They kept him spell-bound, he dared not 
stoop — could not utter a syllable. Unable to 
endure it any longer, he stole slowly away with 
drooping head, making a wide circuit to avoid that 
awful gaze. 

Once outside he breathed more freely. Then 
he shuddered ; that dog was surely human ! 

Far into the night, when the Marquis returned, 
he found the Nubian with wild and troubled face 
sitting before an expiring candle. 

“ What is this for ? what does it mean ? ” 
cried he. 

Lou started, cast a hesitating look at his 
master, and then threw himself at his feet. In 
his hand he held the whip, and offering it to the 
Marquis, he stammered out : “ Lou bad — Lou beat 
Zeppa ! Zeppa good — very good ; Lou bad. 
Moussou beat Lou ! ” 

“ What are you thinking of } What do you 
mean ? ” cried the Marquis impatiently. 


VINTRIGANT 


43 


Then Lou’s beseeching voice, “ Moussou, beat 
Lou ! ” and he held the whip up high in both 
hands. 

The Marquis had no idea what he meant, and 
shook his head in wonder ; at last he took the 
whip and drew it lightly — a half-playful stroke — 
across Lou’s back. 

“Lou, you are quite mad ; off with you to 
your bear-skin ! ” 

From that time peace reigned between the 
three. “ That dog is as wise as a person,” said 
Lili : “ as good as a person,” corrected Lou. 

Zeppa showed himself magnanimous, and 
seemed to bear the Nubian no ill-will ; nor did 
he reproach him by another of those uncanny 
human looks. Lou gradually got over his sense 
of discomfort, and the old friendship cemented 
itself anew. But deep down in his heart he was 
conscious of owing the dog a reparation which he 
vowed he would carry out sooner or later. 

From that day forward, Zeppa was never again 
seen in the street with “ the pair of sorrels,” 


CHAPTER IV, 

THE CASCADES. 

One Sunday in August, Lili and Lou went over 
to the fair at St. Cloud to see the great fountains 
play. 

They sat together on the top of the tramcar 
in the glaring light of the noonday sun. 

“ A delicious couple ! ” whispered the other 
passengers, as they made room for them on the 
seat. 

At first Lili’s flushed face wore an embarrassed 
smile, but the old combative spirit soon reasserted 
itself, and she curled her little defiant nose, tossing 
back her magnificent mane with a gesture which 
absolutely challenged remark. 

No — she was not going to be ashamed of Lou 
— not to-day. Latterly, an idea had sometimes 
dawned upon her that she might possibly be 
worthy of a less unsophisticated, even of a lighter 
coloured, admirer. She had gradually outgrown 


THE CASCADES 


45 


her father’s chastising strap, and had developed a 
charming figure, tripping along daintily on two 
truly Parisian little feet. She was not beautiful, 
strictly speaking, but the dazzling alabaster of her 
skin, now in August lightly sprinkled with freckles, 
might have excited the envy of many a Paris 
lady ; and whereas her red hair had been the 
sport of the street when she was a child, she was 
now assured by certain competent critics that just 
that shade was so perfect — and how glorious in such 
masses ! — she would assuredly make her fortune 
with it yet Besides which her merry eyes shone 
with such a heavenly blue, that they always re- 
called to Lou the azure January sky of Cairo. 

Yes, she had long ceased to be the poor neg- 
lected creature of those days, when she bid fair to 
fade away in the mouldy darkness of the arriere 
logis. They had placed her in a millinery estab- 
lishment near one of the great Boulevards, from 
whence she began to peer ever more inquisitively 
into the sparkling life of the great city. 

But for all that, she was not going to forsake 
Lou just yet. For two years they had been friends 
in a plain, honest, straightforward way, without 
one throb of passion — a friendship which went 
without saying. She was really fond of him, she 
had got accustomed to him, she was sorry for him, 


46 


LOU 


and — she was biding her time — her time which 
had not yet come. 

Truly, a delicious couple ! A thirst for higher 
culture sometimes attacked Lou, not infrequently 
covering his teacher with confusion. To-day he 
was possessed by a very demon of dandyism ; 
upon his small woolly head, which threatened to 
disappear beneath it, he wore a not very fashion- 
able and unusually high top-hat ; his hands were 
rammed into black kid gloves, bursting at every 
seam ; a gigantic pale-blue cravat, and a frail walk- 
ing-stick with a white bone handle which, accord- 
ing to the fashion he had observed in Moussou’s 
friends, he tapped against his teeth, completed his 
costume. Abnormally serious, very upright and 
important he sat there with all the air of showing 
to the world a^ true specimen of the born Parisian. 
Yet through all his bizarre, negro vanity, there 
throbbed the deep joy of being permitted to sit 
by Lili’s side before the gaze of the great, staring 
Sunday world. 

Presently they found themselves carried^ along 
through the fair with the stream of the jostling 
crowd enveloped in clouds of hot golden dust. 
The all-pervading, ear-piercing noise only seemed 
to add to the oppression of the air, composed as 
it was of the merciless blaring of the trumpets, 


THE CASCADES 


47 


the exasperating drone of the hurdy-gurdies, the 
strident shouts of the showmen, the hard tam-tam 
of the drums, and the shrill laughter of swinging 
girls, while here and there the chaos of sound was 
refreshingly broken by a child’s cry of delight at 
its unspeakable good-luck in winning a sugar 
figure in the Tombola. 

However oftefi the two might be hustled apart 
by the crowd, there was no fear of their losing 
one another ; Lou’s dusky head and freshly ironed 
hat and Lili’s flaming looks were easily distin- 
guished wherever they might be. 

Suddenly Lou stood stock-still and beckoned 
to her with outstretched arm, long and stiff as 
a semaphore, offering a rock-like resistance to the 
crowd which surged around him. At length she 
succeeded in making her way to his side. 

“ What was the matter ? what did he want } ” 
With beaming eyes and expan: ive grin he pointed 
to one of the stalls. 

“ What do you want, Lou ? ” she asked again. 

Lou buy Lili something pretty,” he answered 
pointing to a stall where a brilliant, confused heap 
of jewellery flashed and sparkled like a display 
of fireworks. 

“ Nonsense, Lou, don’t be silly ; what do you 
mean ? ■” said Lili ; “ come along ! ” 


48 


LOU 


But he had already escaped from her, and 
when she caught sight of him again he was 
standing at the stall, letting his enraptured eyes 
rove over the glories spread out before him, till 
he found what he sought 

With a knowing smile the stout saleswoman 
took down from a shelf a showy chain, having a 
great heart attached to it. Was that what he 
was going to give her ? 

Sure enough, here he came, radiant with delight 
— more than happy — swinging the jingling thing 
in his hand, to the huge amusement of the 
lookers-on. 

“ But, Lou, what are you doing ? You must 
not — come, we will give it back again ! ” 

Lili’s face was suffused with burning blushes, 
but the next moment the tide had borne them 
along far away from the fatal stall. 

But out in the park, as they were walking 
silently across a sun-warmed emerald green patch 
of meadow, Lou suddenly halted in front of her 
and proceeded to hang the chain round her neck. 

She would have checked him with a movement ; 
but glancing at his face she let him have his way, 
For there again was that same rapt, almost 
austerely earnest, look which had terrified her that 
day in the stable. 


THE CASCADES 


49 


How the great gilded heart glared and shone 
in the sunlight ! — how Lou’s eyes flamed respon- 
sive to the splendour! He tried to speak — his 
lips worked awkwardly — at last it came. 

“ Shou — Fou Zaime ! Shou Fou Zaime, Lili I ” 
and through the clumsy stumbling words there 
rang a tremulous note of passion. 

If she had looked at him — now, at this moment 
— as he poured out the pent-up feeling of two 
years, which had often filled his heart to bursting 
— poured it out in the three poor words he had 
learned from her ; if of her charity she had 
but bestowed one glance upon him, he might, 
perhaps, have plucked up courage to touch his 
cherished idol — might even have gone so far as 
to kiss the flounced hem of her muslin gown. 

But she did not raise her eyes. The spikes of 
the necklace had caught in her hair, and with 
uplifted arms she strove impatiently to disentangle 
it. Her teeth were fixed in her underlip, while 
the angry red and white flitted across her face 
like summer clouds. It was a long time before 
the chain was free. 

And still no glance for him. The silence was 
oppressive : far away a thrush sang loud and 
cheerily, and seemed to mock them. 

Later on they sat at a shaky table in front of 

D 


LOV 


SO 

the terraced structure which serves as a stage to 
the famous cascades of St. Cloud. 

As yet there was no water visible : on the 
highest terrace a few gold-laced officials strutted 
about with important demeanour. The crowd 
wailed in eager expectancy. In the increasing 
brightness of the late autumn sunshine the light 
dresses and silk parasols gleamed and glistened 
amongst the bronze-green foliage. Gay ribbons 
fluttered airily, and white handkerchiefs fanned 
the glowing faces. Little children, with broad 
pink sashes and bare pink legs, balanced them- 
selves on the slippery stone edges of the lower 
fountains. A childlike gaiety beamed from the 
faces of the expectant throng as from a second 
sun. 

If only the necklace round Lili’s throat would 
not flash so obtrusively ! How could Lou have 
picked out such a monstrosity of bad taste } It 
had that bombastic air so dear to the heart of 
stage queens. Lou must have had the picture of 
a gaudy overladen Madonna in his mind when he 
hung that flashy trinket round her neck. And 
whose fault was it but her own if he worshipped 
her as a Christian would a Madonna } 

The heart attracted every eye. Its brightness 
seemed to increase : she might turn her back to 


THE CASCADES 


5 


the sunshine as she would, it gleamed like a 
beacon upon her bosom. She would have given 
anything to get rid of it. Lou was a good 
fellow — one couldn’t help being sorry for him ; 
but certainly his taste went appallingly far back 
into African barbarism. 

The cascades ! The cascades ! 

A tremor passed along the closely packed 
crowd, as when an ant-heap is disturbed. Every- 
body rose. “ Sit still ! ” was the cry. Glasses 
were upset, chairs overturned — some of the 
women screamed. Then, “ There it comes ! 
there it comes ! ” The children shrieked with 
delight. 

At first there was only a line of bubbling white 
foam on the topmost terrace. It increased, 
grew, spread itself out, reared itself on high, 
and one could hear the rushing above the tumult 
of the audience. A shining silver band came 
rippling over the steps ; this, too, grew deeper and 
broader, and then flung itself with a rush and a 
roar into the great basin below. Water-jets shot 
up in flashing, glittering sheaves — higher, bolder, 
intensely white against the slate-blue sky. 

Then fresh jets, fresh cascades, fresh surprises ! 
The whole terrace boiled and bubbled and leapt in 
one enchanting snow-white chaos. A refreshing 


52 


LOU 


coolness wafted down, while the thunder of 
the waters quite extinguished the enthusiastic 
applause which arose on all sides. A mist 
hovered over the water, on which the sun played 
in delicate brilliant rainbows. 

Lou was struck dumb with admiration, open- 
ing his great innocent eyes to their widest extent. 
But in the dim recesses of his memory he was 
conscious of a similar scene rising up before him 
— a cataract of white waters foaming and tumb- 
ling over brown rocks and bridged over by just 
such a glowing arch of rainbow colours. 

Where was it ? when was it "i 

After the first burst of enthusiasm he turned to 
Lili. 

What had become of the necklace ? It no 
longer flashed upon her neck ! 

A sickening fear assailed him that she had 
taken it off while the fountains played : he 
stared at her blankly. Alas ! she was ashamed 
of Lou’s present. Surely she did not love him : 
and he would have given his life for her — there, 
at that very instant. 

There was a strained smile on Lili’s face. She 
actually had unclasped the chain, very cautiously, 
when the cascades began to play. Lou turned 
once more towards the fountains — right round, so 


THE CASCADES 


53 


that Lili might not see his face, and raised his 
eyes again in wonder to the magic play of frothing 
waters. But while he appeared to be absorbed 
in gazing, something wet and glistening obscured 
his vision, and two great tears rolled slowly — very 
slowly — over the brown cheeks. 

Was he dazzled by the fountains, or was some 
new undreamed-of anguish clutching at his heart, 
tighter and tighter, till it threatened to break 

No, she did not love Lou — she could not love 
him ; and the two tears rolled on their way. 

Six days after this Lili had disappeared ! Gone 
— gone ! Where ? Nobody knew. 

Had her father’s strap driven her out into that 
howling wilderness called Paris ? Had she been 
enticed away by an irresistible desire after 
happiness ? Was she a lost drop in the mighty 
ocean of Paris life } or was she destined to shine, 
the brightest jewel of those glittering halls where 
beauty and genius reign supreme ? 

She was gone ! “ Rien!' murmured Lou. “ Rien^ 
rien ! ” was the answer to all the questions and 
searchings of two long years. And now Moussou, 
too, had forsaken him. 

Rien^ poor Lou, once more — Rien ! 


CHAPTER V. 

ADVERTISEMENT. 


Paris was once more drowned in rain, in cease- 
less, pouring rain, just as it had been four years 
ago when Lou arrived at the Gare du Sud. But 
this time there was no compassionate master 
ready to offer him a dry place inside a carriage. 
The driver of one of the last coaches beckoned 
him up to the high box-seat beside him, from 
whence he could overlook the whole slowly 
moving procession of carriages which were accom- 
panying the body of the Marquis de Breteuilles to 
Pere-la-Chaise. 

The dismal grey night was beginning to fall, 
ushered in by heavy sodden clouds trailing low 
over the roofs, wiping out all the colour and all 
the life from the streets. 

Only the glitter of the wet seemed to struggle 
against this all-extinguishing grey. The two 
mirror-like strips of pavement running along the 


ADVERTISEMENT 


houses on either side looked smooth as ice, and 
shone with a silken iridescent light, over which 
flitted the black silhouettes of the hurrying foot 
passengers, with wavering shadows, their umbrellas 
casting faint fan-shaped reflections. It glistened 
and rippled down the window-panes, and in the 
larger rain pools of the carriage-way the drops 
danced in shining rings. 

The driver by whose side Lou had found a 
place, was so enveloped in macintosh coat, hat 
and apron, that the rain had but little effect upon 
him. He was a tall, broad-shouldered, imposing 
personage, with the lofty air of a Cabinet Minister. 
Not a line moved, not an eyelid quivered in the 
fat overfed face — it, too, might have been made of 
india-rubber. On one cheek was a prominence, 
occasioned, no doubt, by the quid of tobacco he 
was engaged in chewing. 

Beside him Lou appeared small and shrunken 
sitting there all doubled up with rounded back 
so much the reverse of his usual deportment, his 
whole frame shaking with cold in his thin gaudy 
Oriental livery. Heavy beads of rain dripped 
from the crinkly black hair, and the fez, dyed a 
reddish brown by the wet, hung at the back of his 
head like a saturated sponge. 

“ Why did you not bring your waterproof coat, 


LOU 


56 

monsieur?” asked the husky bass voice of the 
driver. 

Lou started out of his dreams. The man had 
said “ monsieur ” — was that meant for him ? 

He looked up in sudden amazement. The man 
sat motionless as one of the dummies Lou had 
often seen in the tailors’ shops. 

Rien” he resjoided dejectedly after a pause. 
With a dexterous twist the coachman shot the 
tobacco into his other cheek. 

Rien — Moussou very kind — men take all — 
cloak — everything ; ” and to emphasise his rien, 
Lou gesticulated in the air with uplifted fore- 
finger. 

The coachman cast a hasty, sidelong glance 
down at him, said nothing, but raised his nose a 
little higher than it was before. Presently he 
nodded slightly, and a little waterfall splashed 
from the brim of his hat on to the waterproof 
apron, where it dispersed. 

Finally he appeared to grasp the situation. 
The law had put its seal on the possessions of the 
Marquis, and at the same time, most likely, on 
the macintosh of the shivering servant beside 
him. 

“ That sort of thing does happen,” observed the 
driver after some hesitation, as if the remark were 


ADVERTISEMENT 


57 


an effort, and describing an artistically correct 
curve with his whip over the backs of the horses. 

Lou had sunk into himself again. With 
saddened heart and weary eyes he gazed past the 
stiffly erect figure of the coachman, across the 
glistening wet tops of the carriages, at the four 
black plumes surmounting the pillars of the hearse. 

The hearse dragged heavily onwards, some- 
times swaying from side to side as it passed over 
a rough piece of road, when the plumes would 
send down a shower of raindrops, glittering like 
diamonds in the brightness of the lighted shop- 
windows. 

The lamps of the hearse glimmered dimly red 
through the veil of slanting rain. As it turned 
a corner the white-edged eye-holes in the mourn- 
ing coverings of the horses glared from afar ; then 
the lamps would disappear — it seemed to Lou 
an eternity till they were visible again. 

And still the rain poured down — the pitiless 
rain. The rain-pipes gurgled their melancholy 
song, the gutters swelled to rushing streams, and 
the wheels grated harshly as they slowly revolved. 
The water trickled down Lou’s face in tiny rivulets, 
but no muscles in it moved, any more than in the 
hard bronze face of yonder rain-washed statue 
which they are just passing. 


58 


LOU 


Ever and anon the waning daylight would be 
revived by a cheerful light. Reddish yellow 
streaks of gaslight streamed from the shops and 
quivered across the pavement. The street-lamps 
flashed out like glowing balls of mist through the 
damp air. A great cafe poured a dazzling flood 
of festive joyous light over the passing carriages, 
and breathed out a comfortable warm atmosphere. 
The horses quickened their pace a little, as if 
that warmth had acted on them like a kindly, 
cheering word. 

Lou straightened himself with a jerk. From 
the high perch where he sat, his wandering gaze 
could penetrate this or that lighted window. 

Here was a whole family at dinner, sitting 
closely packed round a table covered with smok- 
ing dishes ; a great twinkling spoon distributed 
soup into plates held high by little bare plump 
arms. There a gay fire burned in the grate, the 
window was slightly open, and one could hear the 
crackling of the flames and the light laughter of 
the elegant couple who reclined in armchairs, at 
each side, warming their feet. 

At another window stood a nurse, holding in 
her arms a child clad only in its little shirt. It 
crowed with delight, and beat its little hands 
against the window-pane, snatching at the endless 


ADVERTISEMENT 


59 


line of carriages as they passed. Ah, how dry it 
was behind all those windows — how warm — how 
safe — how comfortable ! 

“ Have you got another place yet, mon cher?'^ 
inquired the driver suddenly without looking at 
the Nubian ; it sounded hard and wooden as the 
voice of an automaton. 

Lou was silent, an undefined sense of dis- 
comfort making him move restlessly on his seat. 

“ I asked if you had another place,” repeated 
the coachman after a short pause. 

Lou shook his head, sending down a shower of 
raindrops. 

“ No ? Then I should advise you to see about 
getting one. Situations don’t grow on the bushes 
like blackberries, I can tell you.” 

As Lou did not appear greatly impressed by 
these remarks, the driver unbent a little from his 
dignified composure. Rolling the quid of tobacco 
impatiently into the opposite cheek, he leaned 
slightly towards Lou, but still looking straight 
before him, he began persuasively : 

“Look here, mon vieuXy I know of a place for 
you. You might search a long while before you 
found such a good one. Don’t you bother about 
it — ^just you come to me. You may think it a 
funny kind of move — from a Marquis to a cab- 


6o 


LOU 


man ; but look at the matter closer — plenty to 
eat and drink, and smoke like a chimney. You 
can live like a duke and work — not so much ; ” 
and with the fingers of his one free hand he flipped 
away a little water which had gathered in the folds 
of his waterproof. 

“ No, not that much ! You’ve only got to sit 
still up here on the box and open your mouth like 
the wooden nigger in the cigar-shop over there — 
not another thing. Now, what do you say ? Will 
you do it ? ” 

Lou shot a bewildered glance at him. “It’s 
simply this, my knowing darkie — you shall repre- 
sent my trade for me with that black face of yours. 
We call that advertisement. You will soon learn 
how much can be done with advertisement.” 

“ Moussou dead ! ” answered Lou piteously. 

“ Well, yes, of course, and you can’t bring 
him to life again. Must have been a first-rate 
master, too. But there’s no use in being senti- 
mental about it. Why, don’t you see what an 
advertisement it would make — the death and all 
that > ” 

Lou turned from him with a dim, uncertain 
feeling — half anger, half shame. His kind Moussou 
was not yet buried — they could surely wait till 
he had been laid to rest under the sod. Even 


ADVERTISEMENT 


6i 


Moussou’s dog, in his dumb grief, had refused food 
for two whole days, and it was only a dog — an 
animal whose very name was an affront amongst 
these civilised people. 

The coachman nudged him gently. “ Of course 
you would be wrapped up in india-rubber in weather 
like this, and^in winter smothered in fur till you 
looked like a bear. Well ? 

But even this did not stir the Nubian. Impa- 
tiently the other let the whip play on the horses’ 
backs so that they started forward. 

“ Perhaps you think It would be dull to be 
always going to Pere-la-Chaise ? There you are 
quite mistaken. We are not undertakers only, 
we do everything — weddings, christenings, nice 
little pleasure trips with ladies and champagne — 
jolly, I assure you. We have to manage the 
funerals as well, of course — you can’t leave your 
customers in the lurch ; you christen and marry 
them, it’s only decent that you should bury them 
too. You see it would be a very pleasant situa- 
tion for you.” 

A pause. The procession was passing the 
prison of La Roquette, a few closely clipped heads 
were pressed against the black bars of the small, 
dingy windows looking down upon them. 

The coachman made a last effort to gain Lou’s 


62 


LOU 


confidence by a feeble joke. Nodding his head 
in the direction of the windows, a faint ungainly 
smile playing round the fleshy lips. “ The gentle- 
men in there aren’t so badly off either, are they?” 
he said. 

Lou sighed. 

At this the other’s patience gave out. 

“ Sacre nom de Dieu ! ” he cried ; “ if I had only 
come into the world with such a famous black face 
of my own, I’d soon make such an advertisement 
of it as would make the people stare ! ” And he 
shrugged his broad shoulders in contempt for his 
poor-spirited companion. 

Advertisement — why always this advertisement ? 
What was it ? Some horrible thing pushing with 
a cold smile past the graves of those we love. 
Something of this sort passed through Lou’s mind. 

Just before they reached the gates of the church- 
yard the driver threw out the question once more. 
“ Well, what is it to be ? Have you thought it 
over ? Will you come to me ? ” 

Lou was seized with sudden frenzy. His first 
few words were in a language the other did not 
understand — his native Nubian, probably. Then, 
with infinite difficulty he succeeded in stammering 
out, “ Lou very fond of Moussou — very fond ! ” 
He trembled with passion and his eyes flashed. 


ADVERTISEMENT 63 

Let them first bury him — his kind Moussou — 
and let what would happen afterwards. 

He wanted to say something to this effect, but 
the words failed him ; his stock was so limited, 
it was too difficult, and grief laid a torturing, 
burning grip upon his throat 


CHAPTER VI. 

A RACE FOR ZEPPA. 


One shovelful of earth after another fell with a dull 
thud into the Marquis’s open grave, accompanied 
merely by a nod or a shake of the head as a last 
greeting. No tears were shed beside this grave, 
but the rain poured heavily upon the coffin ; no 
sigh was heard, only the wind which swept through 
the bushes round the higher lying graves con- 
tributed a mournful dirge to the general depression 
of the ceremony. 

The dead man’s friends were there — effeminate 
worldlings whose forms bent like helpless reeds 
beneath the force of the rain ; elegants with lack- 
lustre eyes and tired features, but all the more 
fiercely waxed moustaches. 

On every face — in so far as they were distin- 
guishable in the rapidly deepening shades of 
evening — the discomfort caused by the weather 
appeared to outweigh the grief for the friend. 


A RACE FOR ZEPPA 


65 


An unusually large, hard lump of earth fell 
with a resounding blow upon the coffin-lid. 
Startled out of their professional apathy by the 
thunderous sound, the undertaker’s men look up ; 
some of the dripping umbrellas were raised in- 
quiringly. 

It was Lou, naturally. Good old nigger ! 
they all knew him. He wished to send his master 
a specially loud farewell — quite right and proper. 
Or was it only that, with his well-known clumsi- 
ness, he had got hold of a more enormous lump 
of earth than anybody else ? 

Moussou ! ” he moaned under his breath ; 
"Moussou — Moussou !” 

It sounded like a sad and touching protest against 
the sleeper down there, that he should have for- 
saken Lou — of his own free will, so unexpectedly, 
so precipitately. 

As Lou walked down the centre path of the 
churchyard surrounded by groups of gossiping 
men, a good many remarks reached his ears which 
he might easily have applied to himself. He 
paid but little heed to them — most of it he did 
not understand. 

“ How much did he cost him ? ” asked some- 
body. 

The creditors will pull pretty long faces, he is 

E 


66 


LOU 


by far the most costly article of the whole legacy. 
Won’t get a penny for him, however ; you can’t 
sell him like a horse,” was the answer in a tone of 
indifference. 

“ Wisby, my dear little Baron,” called a voice 
further back, “ supposing you took him and pre- 
sented him to your goddess on her birthday 
You would not, of course, be able to hand her a 
nigger with one of those celebrated sighs of yours, 
as if he were a bouquet.” 

Lou suddenly pricked up his ears. He heard 
perfectly distinctly how some one behind him said 
to a companion, in a low tone so that the others 
might not hear ; I’ll tell you what, I will take 
Lou, and you can have the dog.” 

Lou grew burning hot. Without having turned 
round he recognised the nasal voice of Count 
Cabrera. In one lightning flash he understood 
what the other remarks had meant. 

They were disposing of him as they would of a 
piece of furniture ! And “you can have the dog ! ” 

Every fibre in him quivered. What ! they 
would separate him from Zeppa ! Lou from his 
Zeppa ! 

“ I would rather have Lou,” rejoined the other 
voice. Lou recognised it too. It was M. de 
Fronsacques. 


A RACE FOR ZEPPA 


67 


“ Allow me to point out to you, my dear fellow,” 
interposed Cabrera, “ that you could find a block- 
head of a nigger like that any day, but you 
might search all Paris for such a prize as Zeppa. 
He would stand up to a bear if need be. You 
know he saved de Breteuille’s life once at a boar 
hunt in Lorraine two years ago. A wonderful 
animal, let me tell you — magnificent prize winner ! 
You would have to pay for him, of course ; the 
Nubian you would get for nothing.” 

“ All right,” said de Fronsacques. He did not 
seem particularly keen either about the hound or 
that black dog called Lou. “ But we shall have 
to catch on to them, in case the others are before- 
hand with us.” 

“We will drive there at once and fetch the 
dog. Just put it up at your place for the present, 
you can arrange with the creditors afterwards. 
And as to that fellow over there, why he will be 
glad enough to have a roof over his head.” 

The blood froze in Lou’s veins — his heart stood 
still. Lou parted from Zeppa ! No, in all his 
doubts and questionings as to the future, that 
had never entered his mind. Part from his best 
friend ? Impossible ! 

What demon had put it into Cabrera’s head ! 
Surely they must know — they must understand 


68 


LOU 


what the dog was to him, now — ^just at this 
time ! 

It must not, could not be ; he would prevent 
it! 

A moment later and his resolve was taken. 
Lou will not leave Zeppa — to Zeppa he will be 
faithful and true. What should he do in all the 
wide w'orld without the dog ? 

Casting one furtive terror-stricken glance at the 
speakers behind him, he slipped past the foremost 
groups, and with long, cat-like bounds reached the 
entrance gate. 

From there he set off up the Rue Roquette, 
running like the wind. But finding soon that he 
could not keep up this rate of speed, he settled 
down into the swinging trot of the professional 
runner. 

He turned into the Boulevard Voltaire and ran, 
and ran, and ran ! The water in the puddles 
spurted up over his head ; he did not heed it — on ! 
on I They were going to rob him of Zeppa. 

People stood still and shook their heads at the 
strange being who fled past them. Now and then 
he ran against an open umbrella and there followed 
a storm of abuse. Policemen shouted after him, 
ladies sprang out of his way with a scream, as his 
firm and regular footfall splashed every one he 


A RACE FOR ZEPPA 


69 


passed. He upset a child, and left it shrieking. 
In the Place du Chateau d’Eau he narrowly 
escaped being run over by a carriage, in front of 
which he tried to cross. After that he threw 
away the fez, the wet tassel of which swung in his 
face and impeded his sight. 

Then on again — faster ! faster ! 

Turning out of the Place, he took a shorter 
road to the Parc Monceaux than the funeral 
procession had come. But by doing so he had 
to thread a maze of narrow streets. At the Foire 
St. Martin he was suddenly seized with fear lest 
he should lose his way and so arrive too late. So 
he made for the great Boulevards again, the 
longer but the surer way round. 

On he went down the Boulevard Nouvelle and 
the Boulevard Poissoniere. Not finding himself 
able to force his way quickly enough through the 
crowd of foot passengers on the pavement, he took 
to running along by the kerb-stone, close to the 
gutter, sometimes in it. It happened now and 
then that the end of a whip would catch him a 
sharp flick, and the wheels of a carriage passing 
near would splash him with mud from head to 
foot. 

How he panted ! His heart hammered in his 
breast and his blood seethed ! But the rain 


70 


LOU 


refreshed and revived him, although it drove in 
his face, sharp as needles. He opened his mouth 
wide, that the drops might cool the fire that 
scorched his tongue. The steam of his own 
gasping breath rose up round his face. 

At first he had only thought of himself and 
the speed he could maintain, but now a suddenly 
awakened anxiety caused him to follow up every 
carriage which passed him — the fear that the 
robbers of his Zeppa might be sitting in one of 
them. With contracted eyes, watching and 
searching, he strove to pierce the chaos of vehicles 
of every description which whirled and rattled 
around him. 

An elegant carriage came bowling along, drawn 
by two big bays champing their bits ; that might 
be Cabrera, he drove just such bays. 

Lou tried to recognise the coachman. All 
sorts of colours danced before his eyes, he could 
distinguish nothing clearly. Just then a match 
flared up inside the carriage and lighted up the 
pale features of the Count — or so, at least, his 
fancy assured him. 

And the carriage flies past, leaving Lou behind. 

At this he takes a fresh start, every muscle 
on the stretch, gathering up every scrap of will 
and strength which he possesses. He has caught . 


A RACE FOR ZEPPA 


71 


the carriage, and keeps up with it for a space. 
Heaven be praised ! they have reached the Boule- 
vard Montmartre and are going down hill. Here 
he makes a rush and gets ahead of the carriage. 

Down at the foot of the Boulevard it suddenly 
grows dark before his eyes. He staggers, clutches 
in the air at a support and grasps something 
moist. It is the head of a cab horse who has 
just lifted his dripping nose in wonder from the 
pail hanging round his neck. The beast has pity 
on him, and offers no objection when he seizes the 
pail and takes a draught from it. 

Blessings — oh blessings on it I 

But where is the carriage now ? Gone — far 
away. Out of the extreme distance Lou fancies 
he can distinguish the sharp clang of those par- 
ticular hoofs above all the other noises. 

Up ! Away ! They are going to part him 
and Zeppa ! That may not, shall not be ! He 
struggles on along the Boulevard Haussmann. 
Then with a superhuman effort, gasping, desperate, 
breathless, putting forth his last strength he gains 
the top of the Boulevard Malesherbes. The bare, 
rain-blackened giant trees of the Parc Monceaux 
rise up before him. 

At last — at last — there is Moussou’s house I 
Into it now ! 


72 


LOU 


The pale thin wife of the porter almost faints 
with fright as he bursts in, encrusted with mud, 
unrecognisable, with gasping breath — two fever 
glowing balls instead of eyes. 

“ Zeppa ! Zeppa there ! ” comes like a hoarse 
groan from his bursting breast. 

The woman clasps her hands above her head. 
“ Mon Dieu ! Mon Dieu ! Poor Lou — he must 
have gone out of his mind ! ” 

He flies to the dog’s kennel — glares into it — 
it is empty ! The straw rustles — no ; it is he 
who is doing it. Empty ! Empty ! 

With a weird cry never heard before from 
human lips, half shriek, half groan, he falls pros- 
trate in front of the kennel, striking his head 
heavily against the woodwork. 

“ Zeppa rien — Zeppa rien,^* is his plaintive, 
moaning cry. For a moment he lies as if dead — 
he has fainted. 

Then consciousness returns, and he gathers 
himself together once more. They have stolen 
Zeppa from him ; “ Lou rzen without Zeppa ! ” 

He stumbles to the wood-cellar. “ He ! Zeppa ! 
Zeppa ! ” No answer — no trace of the dog. 

To the stables ! At his shout one of the horses 
starts and rears ; it sounds so like a bark. But 
nothing here either — nothing. 


A RACE FOR ZEPPA 


73 


One hope is left to him. The dog may be 
crouching upstairs in front of his master’s door, 
where he has spent his days of silent mourning. 
He must be there. 

Now up the stairs, leaving his footmarks on 
the soft carpet. Up one — two flights ; — some- 
thing whimpers. 

Lou holds his breath, the sudden unutterable 
joy makes his knees give way beneath him. 
Ah, it is Zeppa ! Zeppa’s voice ! 

Two or three steps more, and something enor- 
mous, with heavy, thumping tread comes bound- 
ing down the stairs, hurling Lou against the 
banisters in the force of its rush. 

“ Zeppa — Zeppa ! ” he can only breathe the 
name in a last sigh of infinite relief. 

His arms hang limp and trembling from his 
superhuman exertions ; he clasps them tight 
about Zeppa’s neck, pressing his burning face 
against the dog’s. 

“ Zeppa there — Zeppa there — not gone ! ” The 
dog licks the poor throbbing brow. Ah, how 
that revives, refreshes him ! — the long tail mean- 
while beating joyfully against the banisters till 
they shake and tremble. 

After the first storm of greeting, Lou’s fears 
return. Holding Zeppa’s head tenderly between 


74 


LOU 


both hands, and letting his gaze sink deep into the 
faithful eyes of his friend, a tremulous petition 
rises to his lips — “ Zeppa will come ? Zeppa be 
good ? Lou kind ! ” 

The dog understands him — oh yes ! he certainly 
understands — would he otherwise bark and whine 
so joyously ? 

Immediately afterwards the porter’s wife beheld 
the Nubian coming downstairs with Zeppa. One 
hand was laid upon the dog’s broad back, his eyes 
flashed in triumph. At the gate they stopped, 
both looking cautiously about them for a moment. 
Lou gave a deep, long-drawn, heartfelt sigh of 
relief. 

A carriage comes rolling along. They start 
forward instantly into the rain, Lou holding Zeppa 
by the collar. The dog presses close to his side, 
and Lou, half running, adapts his gait to Zeppa’s 
long trot. 

And so through the streets, further and further, 
without a thought as to their destination ; only 
to get away — out of this horrible Paris ! 

They move on steadily till the lamps grow 
scarcer, and then cease altogether ; and the two 
fugitives vanish into the thick darkness and the 
driving rain. 


: i -1 ' 


CHAPTER VII. 

BIG DISHES. 

From that time forward there were few traces of 
Lou and his friend. Now and then a gendarme 
would report at the bureau of his district, in a 
casual way, amongst a varied list of villainy and 
theft, that on the road to so-and-so he had 
stopped a black individual with a very large dog. 
This person, it is true, had been unable to pro- 
duce any papers, but seeing that he did not 
appear dangerous to the public safety, he had 
been allowed to proceed. They must have come 
from some fair or other. 

Lou probably avoided both the daylight and 
the frequented highways, for there they would be 
assailed by curious eyes. Nobody dared to come 
too near them, however, on account of the size 
and savage appearance of the dog. They some- 
times passed the night in unfrequented wayside 
inns, and the innkeepers would tell strange stories 


76 LOU 

afterwards of the queer guests. And truly they 
were a strange couple. 

There would come a tapping and scraping out- 
side in the passage. The fat landlady would 
waddle out to see what it was. At the sight 
of the black fellow with a great dog she would 
start back, and “ Martin ! ” she called to her 
husband. 

Lou nodded, showed his teeth in a broad smile, 
and did his best to create a pleasing impression 
without much success. 

“What did he want.^” asked Martin peremp- 
torily. 

The dog yawned, disclosing the terrific expanse 
of his jaws. The landlady plucked nervously at 
her husband’s sleeve. 

“ Want dish — dish of food, madame,” answered 
Lou, and held out his hand with a piece of money 
in the palm. 

“ Big dish — very big,” he added ; “ much hunger 
— big hunger.” 

He then described a circle with his hands to 
give them an idea of the size of dish he required, 
whereat everybody in the inn parlour laughed. 
In the end the guests would call him indoors. 

Rienl' said Lou, and trotted off to some adjoin- 
ing outhouse, where he sat himself down, 


BIG DISHES 


77 


They brought him a dish. “ Bread,” he pro- 
ceeded to order, “ not big — little.” 

They watched him, to see what would 
happen. 

He crouched upon the ground, with his feet 
close to the dish in which the dog was absorbed, 
licking and gulping greedily. Lou, his chin in 
both hands, his elbows on his knees, followed 
every movement of the animal with the keenest 
interest, serene happiness beaming from every 
feature. 

If the dog left off eating — having probably 
had enough — Lou would encourage him to go on, 
pressing his head down again with caressing 
hands till the dish was licked clean. 

Then only would Lou take the piece of bread 
he had ordered for himself, and begin biting into 
it with his magnificent teeth. 

“ Mon Dieu ! can it be possible ! ” cried the 
landlady. “ Such a dog ! and such a man ! ” 

They invited Lou into the parlour and gave 
him something to eat, which he reluctantly 
accepted. They put wine before him, and were 
delighted when he laboriously brought out his 
little stock of words. They plied him with drink, 
more and more, till at last they had to carry 
him to his bed, dead drunk. 


78 


LOU 


Awakening next morning from a hideous 
sleep, he groped about him in the grey dawn — 
the place was empty ! 

He sprang to his feet like a wild beast, and 
stood with clenched fists and rolling eyes. 

“ Zeppa ! ” he roared, “ Zeppa — a — a ! ” so 
loud and prolonged that the whole house was 
roused. 

What was the matter ? Why, there was the 
dog ! He had simply curled himself up some- 
where else during the night. Angry at the dis- 
turbance, they bade the noisy fellow go his way 
as fast as possible. 

After that night no persuasion could induce 
Lou to touch another drop of intoxicating liquor — 
he was afraid of losing the dog during a drunken 
fit. 

He would lie down beside the animal with one 
hand tightly clasped round its massive metal 
collar. Sometimes they found him with his 
head pillowed on the dog’s — a reminiscence of 
Moussou’s bear-skin. 

Throughout one whole summer Lou fed his 
friend off “ big dishes ” ; he had to make up to 
the dog for the beating he had once given him. 
And he would be faithful to him — that he had 
sworn over and over again. 


BIG DISHES 


In the beginning he ordered dinner for himself 
as well. But when he discovered how terribly 
fast his little hoard of money melted away, he 
contented himself with dry bread and let the dog 
eat his fill. Only now and then, when the dish 
happened to be unusually big, would he take a 
spoon and eat from the same plate as the dog. 

Then there came a time when he ceased to lay 
so much stress on the size of the dishes he ordered. 
Reluctantly and with secret sighs he gave out the 
money. 

He beat hi« brains perpetually, making the 
m'ost difficult calculations as to how many dishes 
of food he could set before Zeppa with the money 
which remained to him. 

Alas ! the dog paid small heed to these calcu- 
lations. He ate everything and enjoyed it, and 
never noticed how Lou’s look of ecstatic delight 
at his appetite changed by slow degrees and 
became troubled and careworn. Zeppa’s appetite 
seemed only to increase, filling Lou with horror. 
What was to be done when the last coin had been 
exchanged for a “ big dish ” ? 

He even tried to give the dog a hint on the 
subject. Zeppa did not see it and ate on. At 
last he told him straight out — very gently, of 
course, in his most loving tones : 


So 


LOV 


Zeppa be good — be good — must love Lou.” 

The dog answered with one of his high-pitched 
barks. 

“ Zeppa good, but Zeppa eat a lot ; Zeppa eat 
up all the money — Lou soon have no more money. 
Zeppa, Lou beg.” 

Still the dog did not understand, and broke 
into a low whine of pleasure at the caressing tones 
of his friend’s voice. 

Then came the last “ big dish.” 

The sound of the dog s loud licking drowned 
the sighs with which Lou gave vent to his distress. 
In his hand he held the locket, turned it this 
way and that ; how many dishes might he not 
buy if he sold it ! 

No, he must not — that is his last souvenir of 
kind Moussou ; it had fallen from his bullet- 
pierced breast. No ; better beg than do that. 

So the Nubian began to beg — Lou begged for 
Zeppa. It was not so easy, for when any one 
sent them awa.y or treated them harshly the dog 
would set up his ominous growl. Perhaps it 
was hunger that made him so savage ; Lou might 
try to soothe him as he would. 

Anyhow it was looked upon as intimidation, 
and the police were called upon to interfere. 

That must have been the signal for a wild 


BIG DISHES 


8i 


chase. Fleeing and escaping, seeking refuge in 
swamps and rain-soaked woods, dragging them- 
selves across snow-covered wilds, desperately- 
hiding in inhospitable stone quarries, freezing, 
hungry ; and, added to it all, the feverish, mad- 
dening anxiety, all for their pitiful little bit of 
freedom. 


CHAPTER VIII. 


“ MENAGERIE PIMENTO.” 

A THUNDERSTORM hung over the wood towards 
which Lou and Zeppa were wending their way 
one afternoon in spring. A bank of slate-blue 
cloud rose slowly over the majestic crowns of the 
oaks, pushing its silvery edge further and further 
forward along the sultry grey sky. The sun 
struck the wood with sharp rays of yellow light, 
causing the foliage to stand out in glaring, golden 
bronze tints against the dark background of cloud, 
the leaves glittering and rustling in the chilly 
breeze which had suddenly sprung up. 

A low prolonged growl resounded through the 
whispering and rustling of the trees. Seeking 
shelter from the advancing storm, the two 
v/anderers struck across the ploughed fields over 
the brown furrows whose freshly upturned surfaces 
shone in the sunlight. They made their way 
over it with difficulty, panting with fatigue, the 


** MENAGERIE PIMENTO'^ 83 

dog’s tongue hanging long and heavy from his 
dripping jaws. 

Suddenly Zeppa stopped short, his ears pricked, 
his eyes lighting up. Hark ! through the growl 
of the thunder came a muffled roar. Was it only 
the storm } No ; there it was again, heard dis- 
tinctly above the thunder — deep, reverberating, 
hollow notes intensified by the echoing forest. 

The dog stood still, peering sharply forwards, 
his tongue drawn in, his breath quickening. 
Then he sent forth a deep bay in the direction of 
the sound. It was answered by another — perhaps 
merely an echo. 

A bird screeched shrilly, a horse neighed, voices 
shouted in between, and there arose forthwith a 
confused chorus of grunting, barking, and howling. 

The dog was not to be held back ; with a 
mighty jerk he freed himself of Lou’s restraining 
hand, and made off towards the wood, Lou pur- 
suing him through the crackling undergrowth. 

When he came up with him again, Zeppa was 
standing, hidden by a thick screen of brushwood, 
trembling in every limb, intensely excited and 
restraining his voice with difficulty. 

Before them in the deep green shadow lay a 
forest glade, carpeted with soft, luxuriantly 
flowering grass, and shut in on every side by a 


84 


LOU 


mighty wall of dark trees, their intervening spaces 
filled up with brushwood. Over it, like a canopy, 
hung the deepening storm-cloud, the whole scene 
forming a sort of hall wherein every sound re- 
verberated against the massive walls. 

A travelling menagerie was encamped upon the 
grass. The low-wheeled cages stood round in a 
semicircle, and behind the iron bars many 
coloured beasts paced to and fro in agitation. In 
the middle, its pale blue smoke curling in the air, 
crackled a fire at which some women were occupied 
in preparing a meal. The horses, freed of their 
trappings, grazed in the lower lying portion of the 
glade where a brook murmured through the long 
reeds, while a zebra bound to a tree close by gave 
vent to his feelings in a series of vicious kicks. 

In the pathway leading to the opening lay a 
half-overturned caravan, which they were busily 
engaged in setting upright again, while a tall man 
in his shirt-sleeves was hauling along the inmates of 
the van. In one hand he led an immense tigress, 
while the other arm held four or five tiger cubs, 
clawing and scrambling up his shoulder, and 
miauing dismally all the time. The mother 
walked along contentedly, keeping her face turned 
towards her offspring, purring gently with her 
mouth half open. 


••MENAGERIE PIMENTO 


85 

Suddenly something came striding through the 
grass quite close to Lou and Zeppa, with a long 
bounding trot. It was an ostrich, on whose broad 
elastic back rode a little half-naked boy, his tiny 
hands clasped tightly round the bird’s pole of a 
neck. 

This was rather too much for Zeppa : out he 
leapt from his hiding-place, barking furiously, and 
made for the ostrich. The bird raced away with 
piercing trumpet cries ; the boy, thrown high in 
the air at every bound, screamed for help; Lou 
followed, shouting and scolding; and so the chase 
went on, round and round the encampment. 

The dog reached the bird at length, sprang at 
it, and secured a great tail feather in his mouth. 
Fired by his success, he amused himself by spring- 
ing again and again at the bird’s back, and pulling 
out feather after feather, becoming more expert 
each time, and stealing more and more, regardless 
of the bird’s shrill cries of pain. The costly 
feathers flew about, and the uproar became 
general. 

They went at the villain, who by this time had 
got well into the spirit of the thing, with poles 
and whips — one woman even with a big cooking 
spoon. They chased him wildly round the cages, 
whose inmates joined in the already deafening 


86 


LOU 


uproar, with roars and howls and furious leaps, 
till the cages rocked again, and the echoes sent 
back an answering chorus ; while high above the 
waving tree-tops the thunder rolled on its calm 
majestic way. 

At last the Nubian managed to seize the dog 
just as he had got one of the finest plumes 
between his teeth, and most reluctantly gave up 
his prize, when Lou forced it from him by 
tugging and shaking. The others struck at him, 
while Lou warded off the blows with hand and 
shoulder ; and they might in the end have wreaked 
their vengeance upon him personally, had not the 
owner of the menagerie pushed his way through 
the crowd and come between them. 

He was a short, sturdy man with a round red^ 
brown face, short bristly grey hair, and fierce black 
beard. His shirt-sleeves were rolled up high, 
disclosing the great swelling muscles of his arms ; 
one of which was profusely tattooed on the inner 
side. In his hand he held a mighty thighbone, 
from which the meat had just been removed to 
be distributed to the animals, and which still 
shone moistly — a rather unusual style of sceptre. 

He bade Lou give an account of himself : 
whence he came — whither he was going } 

Lou shrugged his shoulders and pulled a sorry 


** MENAGERIE PIMENTO^' 


87 


face. In his exclusive intercourse with the dog 
his small stock of language had diminished con- 
siderably, and the laconic rien had to do duty 
more than ever as an answer to any question that 
might be put to him. 

But no sooner did he reveal in a good-natured 
and shame-faced smile the full splendour of his 
magnificent teeth, than his success was secured. 
It was instantly apparent to Signor Pimento’s 
sharp business eye that here, with such teeth, 
was an opportunity for drawing an audience and 
creating a sensation which must not be allowed 
to slip. 

He determined therefore, at all hazards, to 
secure this eccentric-looking tramp for his com- 
pany. Seizing Lou by the arm, he coolly 
examined his muscles, and passed his hand over 
his chest. He discovered that, though the young 
man had undeniably fallen away very much during 
his wandering, vagabond life, he would soon fill 
out with good feeding for the purpose he had in 
view. He therefore ordered them to give ce 
monsieur^ as he was pleased to call poor ragged 
Lou, something to eat. 

“ And lots of it, do you hear ? ” and he waved 
his sceptre in the direction of the steaming 
caldrons. 


88 


LOU 


Lou understood that much. Something to 
eat ! and lots of it ! — it was like the sound of 
wedding bells. A ray of joy lit up his face ; he 
pointed to the dog : “ hungry too — big hunger ! ” 

Aware that the gigantic dog would show up 
well in the menagerie, Signor Pimento commanded 
that he too should be provided with a large quan- 
tity of food. 

It was not long before Zeppa was engaged in 
discussing an enormous piece of meat which had 
been thrown to him ; besides which he had been 
presented with Signor Pimento’s sceptre, whereon, 
however, even his vast powers of crunching failed 
to make any impression, till he ended by dragging 
the refractory bone away into the bushes, there to 
ruminate at his leisure on some more effectual 
mode of attack. 

A little while later, and Lou was seated amongst 
the others with a heaped-up pewter plate before 
him. The loud smacking of his lips and the feats 
he achieved with his great teeth appeared to afford 
them unbounded pleasure. Signor Pimento urged 
him on as if he meant to fatten him up by that 
evening. The others followed their director’s 
example, till Lou almost despaired of putting away 
the good things which fell to him from all 
sides. 


** MENAGERIE PIMENTO'^ 


89 


From time to time as he paused for breath his 
eyes travelled curiously round the assembly. 
Added to the satisfaction of appeasing his hunger, 
he had the comfortable feeling that the fortune of 
the road had thrown him into company which drd 
not differ greatly from himself. There were brown 
weather-beaten men with thick-set bull-necks ; 
dark-haired, fiercely beautiful women, with bold 
masculine features and voluptuous forms, to the 
occasional baring of whose charms they showed a 
calm indifference ; pretty, half-naked, sturdily 
built children era ed about on all-fours amongst 
the dishes, plunging their little hands into this 
one or that as they caught sight of a tempting 
morsel. 

The dresses, even in this state of neglige, showed 
all sorts of fantastic vagaries, reminding Lou of his 
old Oriental livery. The bright colours were cer- 
tainly faded, the fringes draggled and matted, and 
the trimmings tarnished. One of the men wore a 
fez, another a spangled circlet ; on yonder swelling 
brown bosom glittered the broad links of a gaudy 
chain. Alas ! how it recalled the cascades of St. 
Cloud, and that flashing heart of which Lili had 
been so ashamed ! 

They made short work with the food, these 
people. Heavens ! what mouthsful they bolted ! 


90 


LOU 


They might have caught it from the wild beasts. 
Certainly Lou had no occasion to apologise for 
his appetite. 

A few rather odd guests took part in the meal. 
The tigress was absorbed in tearing and worrying 
at a sinewy piece of meat, her satisfied purr serv- 
ing as an accompaniment to the general conversa- 
tion, while from this or that cage came a low 
cracking and crunching of bones. Close by, the 
five tiger cubs were gathered round a huge bowl 
of milk, their eager noses deep in it, sometimes an 
ungainly paw plumped into the middle of it, 
splashing over the whole little party. 

There too sat a calm, sage-looking old gentle- 
man, with the most elegant manners. Monsieur 
Jim the chimpanzee. He seemed to feel the cold, 
in spite of the warm winter coat- — infinitely too 
large for him — which hung upon his shoulders. 
Every attention was paid him, and he appeared 
anxious to reprove their greedy manners by show- 
ing them with what breeding and grace really 
good monkey society partook of its meals. 

The storm was passing over, the low roll of the 
thunder sounding faintly in the distance. One 
cloud had cast down a few heavy drops of rain, 
falling on the bare shoulders of the women and 
making them start and scream ; others hissing into 


MENAGERIE PIMENTO 


91 


the hot dishes, whereat everybody cried out indig- 
nantly and shook threatening fists at the offending 
elements. 

After the meal three of the women set to work 
to patch up the dishevelled ostrich. Zeppa had 
mauled him frightfully, and in such a condition, 
with great staring patches of bare skin, it would 
be out of the question to present him before any 
public. So they carefully collected the scattered 
plumes, and by sewing them on to those which 
remained, did their best to restore his vanished 
glory. They chatted and giggled, while the ostrich 
protested piteously against the whole operation ; 
and further off a musician practised on the horn 
the echoes trumpeting back at him from every side. 

To the accompaniment of this music Lou’s en- 
gagement was concluded, a one-sided agreement, 
in which Lou only dropped an occasional “ yes ” 
or nodded his head silently. 

“ Then you will stay with us — eh } ” said Signor 
Pimento, blinking his left eye — considerably smaller 
than the other — rapidly, and continuing to do 
so throughout the interview. “The Menagerie 
Pimento is illustrissima in all Europe, including 
America. It is the first, the greatest menagerie 
of the world! You couldn’t do better, figlio 
mio ! ” 


92 


LOU 


Lou cast a glance at the considerable remains 
still on his plate, and could not forbear a smile of 
comfortable repletion. 

“Your name is Lou, is it.^ Let us see — Lou 
. . . Lou . . . ; ” and he pronounced the name 
in various tones to try how it sounded. “ Lou is 
such a confoundedly short name — it’s simply 
nothing. You might just as well call yourself A. 
or B., or 1. or X. The name is so small, one would 
almost be afraid of losing it. You can make no 
impression with ‘ Lou,’ per Bacco ! nobody will 
catch on to a name like that — you would be 
ashamed of it before the animals. You must 
have another name. How do you like Aukadauba 
or Titirongolo, for instance } ” 

The Nubian stared in amazement and nodded. 

“ No offence, but it must be all one to you, with 
your dark skin, whether you are yellow or brown 
or black— Dio di Dio ! — a matter of perfect indif- 
ference; so we will make you darker, capisce? 
That shade doesn’t draw. You will have to be 
pitch black, or reahnente I sha’n’t be able to make 
any use of you.” 

Lou’s eyes grew bigger, and he nodded again. 

“ No offence, carino, but I suppose it’s all the 
same to you whether you’ve come from Africa or 
Australia or the moon ? I require a savage — a 


MENAGERIE PIMENTO 


93 


first-rate savage — a bestia of a savage ! — capisce f I 
had a genuine one called Aukadauba, who’d eat a 
man as soon as a sandwich. Here, of course, he 
had to give up his favourite dish, because of the 
police ; so he only ate live pigeons. Then he 
turned melancholy and died.” 

Lou did not understand half of it, and showed 
his teeth in a broad grin. 

“ Sangue di Dio ! but you’ve got a meraviglia 
of a set of teeth in your mouth. You ought to 
make a perfect furore with them. You might be 
made for man-eating with those teeth. Only 
keep your mouth wide enough open. We’ll soon 
show you how to eat live pigeons — capisce f It 
will be a splendid performance.” 

Lou nooded again. 

“We’ll teach you to swallow fire — a mere trifle, 
fglio mio — no hotter than your dinner yonder. 
Can you yell and howl and bellow — eh } ” 

Lou nodded with decision. 

“ Well, then, you must learn a war-cry. Monsieur 
Gingo shall take you in hand. The devil would 
be in it if he did not make a genuine cannibal of 
you. But look here, you know, you’ll have to 
eat — you must stuff yourself thoroughly ; you’re 
no use in a show as you are now. You will have 
to eat all day long. Are you hungry still ? ” 


94 


LOU 


Lou did not know what to make of this sudden 
change of fortune. Wonders would never cease ! 

“ Do you agree to it all ? ” asked Signor Pimento 
finally. 

Lou’s teeth flashed such a rapturous assent that 
there was no need of further words. 

At that moment Zeppa came bounding along. 
Lou started up, hastened towards the dog, bent 
down, and casting his arms in a transport of joy 
about its neck — “ Ah, Zeppa ! ” he cried, ** good 
— all good. Zeppa have big dishes again, never 
go beg any more ! ” 

At night Lou and his friend were shown to 
their bed in an empty caravan. As a covering 
he received a skin, old and shabby enough ; but 
he had no sooner felt it than he knew it was 
bear. 

“ Oh, Zeppa, Zeppa — bear-skin ! ” He stroked 
it tenderly — how it carried him back to the old 
days ! Oh, the comfort of stretching his worn-out 
limbs upon it ! He was to sleep once more on a 
bear-skin — happier times were in store for him, all 
would now be well ! 


CHAPTER IX. 


MEMORIES. 

Night fell over the scene — black and sultry- 
full of mysterious magnetism ; and Lou could get 
no proper sleep, but woke again and again from 
his fitful slumbers. As the talking in the cara- 
vans died away, all kinds of other sounds began 
to steal forth out of the darkness and flit about 
like restless spirits. 

The heavy, panting breath of the wild beasts 
rose and fell upon the air, varied now and then 
by suppressed snorts — here a sudden deep sigh, 
there a thin whistling whine. 

Lou’s caravan stood among the cages of the 
beasts of prey. He could hear the ponderous 
bodies changing their position in their sleep, with 
a tremendous heave — a yawn, a stretching of the 
limbs, and a heavy thud against the wall of the 
cage that made it creak and groan. He heard 
distinctly the rub of a hairy coat against the iron 


96 


LOU 


bars ; claws being sharpened on the wooden floor ; 
then the tap-tap of slender little hoofs, and a 
bird of prey stretching its great wings with a 
whirr and rustle of feathers. Round and over all 
this confused murmur of animal sounds hovered 
the even, far-reaching voice of the forest ; loud 
and strong where it swept through the high tree- 
tops ; throwing off great waves of sound into the 
distance, dying away softly in the deeper glades ; 
while close by the little brook chattered over the 
pebbles in its bed, or gurgled and whispered as it 
glided through the long reeds. 

A nightingale broke into song — a few wild 
seductive notes — a yearning adagio ; then silence 
once more, and nothing but the mighty rushing of 
the trees. 

In the far distance Lou could hear the dogs 
bark in some neighbouring village — they scented 
the menagerie. 

Suddenly some animal woke from its sleep 
with a hoarse angry cry. It was answered 
by another ; then growls with viciously accen- 
tuated R-r-r-s, and a sound of biting and 
snorting. 

Two great eyes shone through the gloom with 
a greenish phosphorescent light ; then four more, 
from which sparks seemed to shoot ; and then the 


MEMORIES 97 

phantom lamps were swallowed up in the black- 
ness of the night. 

As Lou lay there listening, between sleeping 
and waking, a scene of his childhood returned 
slowly to his memory, grew clearer, and then 
stood out distinctly before his mind’s eye. 

Another night than this — wider — limitless ; at 
an immeasurable distance stars glittered white and 
tremulous in the deep black vault of heaven. 
Men were stirring a fire with long poles — stirring 
so vehemently that the sparks flew high in the 
air as if to join the stars which flashed about 
them. The crackling flames cast a ruddy glow 
over the men’s faces and their eyes gleamed. 

And as they stirred they sent forth wild cries 
and shouts, sometimes drawing the poles out of 
the fire and shaking them menacingly into the 
darkness beyond with yells and threats. For 
round the fire, and evidently directed at it, there 
rose a chorus of infuriated howls. A hoarsely 
yelping crew raged round it in a circle, the ground 
quaking beneath the thunder of their trampling 
feet. 

When the tumult grew too furious, a lighted 
brand would fly like a rocket into the seething 
mass of hungry beasts, leaving a trail of sparks 
behind it. The moon rose blood-red over the 


G 


98 


LOU 


horizon, growing and widening into an intense 
glowing disc, flooding the boundless wastes of 
stony desert with weird and lurid light. 

The scene changed. 

A closely packed troop of riders moved along 
in the glare and heat of the burning sun. The 
bronzed faces which peered from the folds of the 
white bernouses wore a grim, forbidding look ; an 
oppressive silence reigned, no word passed between 
the riders, no sound broke the stillness of the 
desert save the monotonous ring of the hoofs on 
the hard ground. 

From time to time a woman’s beautiful face, 
with great, dark, starry eyes, would lean over Lou 
with a whisper of tender words, such words as he 
had never heard since then. 

Thus they went on for many hours through the 
quivering waves of heat. Then voices arose from 
the troop, a halt was made — a hasty,- urgent con- 
sultation, and on again in hot haste, galloping at 
the top of their speed. 

The child lay closely pressed to his mother’s 
bosom, clinging tightly to her robe with his little 
hands as they pursued their wild flight. Then, 
a confused sound of fighting — shots fell ; yells 
and menaces rang out, the horses snorting fiercely, 
and Lou clinging ever tighter to his mother. 


MEMORIES 


99 


Suddenly, with a jerk and a sharp cry, her 
arms loosened from him ; there was a dizzy fall 
from a height, and something hot flowed over 
Lou’s face and obscured his sight ; a rattle in the 
throat, a last gasping sigh, and the stricken mother 
lay still. 

Soon afterwards rough hands seized the child 
and dragged him up, but not till the evening did 
strange women, speaking an unknown tongue, 
wash his mother’s heart’s blood from his weeping 
face. 

From these fantastic visions, which had ended 
in lulling him to sleep, Lou was aroused by a 
blinding light flaring out several times and 
illuminating the whole glade. The storm had 
returned ; the thunder rolled over the forest, a 
mighty wind swept through the trees, whose 
branches creaked and clashed against one 
another. 

All the animals in the encampment were awake, 
pacing their cages and growing more agitated 
every moment, rattling their chains and making 
the springs of the cages vibrate under their furious 
leaps and plunges. They shook the iron bars 
and threw themselves against the wooden walls as 
if to force an outlet through which they might flee 
from those maddening flashes. The pauses be- 


lOO 


LOU 


tween the lightning grew shorter and shorter, 
and with each fresh flash the medley of terrified 
cries wrung from the animals grew worse. 

It was a chaos of howls and yells and whines, 
audible in its shrillness above the sonorous voice 
of the thunder, while angry bellowings vied with 
it as it dealt its sudden crashing blows. Earth 
and sky joined in one terrific concert ; the pene- 
trating trumpet-notes of some great bird piercing 
sharply through the all-pervading noise like a 
harsh tenor in a chorus. 

Suddenly, with a rush, the rain came down, in 
a Solid mass, with the metallic rattle of musketry. 

At this new and unexpected phase the howling 
and bellowing was checked, and finally sank into 
complete silence. Nothing was heard but the 
steady rush of the rain and the mighty ebb and 
flow of the thunder. 

Gradually, however, movement returned to the 
cages. The hyaena began gnashing his teeth — it 
sounded like the unearthly chattering of a maniac. 
A jaguar gave a horrible long-drawn hu-hu ; 
from the monkeys’ cage opposite came whimpering, 
frightened, guttural cries ; and the jackal sniffed 
the air greedily. Now the foxes set up an angry 
yelp which let loose the whole chorus once more, 
as if at a given signal. 


MEMORIES 


101 


But this time there arose from the midst of the 
chaos a roar which dominated every other sound 
— the rain, the thunder, the other beasts. 

It was the voice of the lion. What even the 
storm could not accomplish the lion’s burst of 
rage achieved ; everything trembled at it — the 
air, the earth, the van in which Lou was lying ; 
and Zeppa, courageous Zeppa, cowered close to 
Lou, trembling so violently that he had to use 
every effort in order to calm the dog’s excited 
nerves. 

Then something occurred whereat Lou himself 
trembled. 

The zigzag flashes had been so blinding, the 
changes from deepest night to dazzling brightness 
so abrupt, that Lou had hitherto been unable to 
distinguish anything beyond a medley of swaying, 
leaping animal outlines. Suddenly a blaze of 
lightning seemed to be arrested on the spot, and 
remained there stationary — an immense quivering 
glare of light — for several seconds. 

By this light Lou saw that in one of the cages 
there stood a man. He was dressed in pale 
clothing, and his face gleamed lividly white in the 
glare of the lightning. He held a small whip in 
his uplifted hand, and his lips moved in speech. 
He was speaking to a coil of tigers w'ho twisted 


102 


LOV 


and writhed at the dazzling brightness of his 
form, at the power of his piercing eye and the 
magic of his voice. 

One of the brutes made as if to spring : the 
man’s eyes only opened a little wider, — one 
loud word followed like a blow — nothing more — 
and the creature growled and writhed again 
amongst its companions in the corner. 

Then night again — deepest, blackest night. 

But there was no danger for the man. They 
knew — those tigers and the othe*r animals too 
— they knew that it was he who made the 
thunder and the lightning, and brought down the 
rain from heaven. That man could slay them 
with a glance — they knew it well I 


CHAPTER X. 

AUKADAUBA. 

Lou showed a remarkable aptitude for his rdle of 
savage, and Signor Pimento was delighted with 
the lucky find chance had thrown in his way. 

“ Vecchio mio^* he said, patting Lou’s bare 
breast which Monsieur Gingo in his freest artistic 
style had just finished painting in exact imitation 
of tattooing ; “ vecchio mioy you committed an 
inconceivable folly in letting yourself be brought 
i to the world as a simple Nubian. Just cast an 
eye at the glass, and say if this style does not 
become you ten thousand times better.” 

No doubt the monstrous turban-like roll of hair 
stuck through with nodding gaudy plumes became 
him vastly, as far as he could judge from what 
he saw in the little three-cornered, half-blind scrap 
of looking-glass. Nor did the ingenious method 
with which they had attached a copper ring to his 
nose cause him any special inconvenience, and for 
a change he might easily put up with the darker 


104 


LOU 


shade of his complexion — a brilliant metallic black 
which Mr. Gingo pronounced to be “ super- 
genuine.’ 

“ Of course, director, with such a groundwork 
of colour to go upon it’s a very different thing,’ 
said the artist, sweeping back with a theatrical 
wave of the hand a dangling lock of grizzled hair 
which fell over his nervously mobile face. Because 
of this lock of hair and the odd “ funeral ” ex- 
pression of his little slits of eyes, they had nick- 
named him the “ weeping willow.” 

This name, however, was singularly inappro- 
priate to the mercurial character of the factotum 
of the menagerie, himself the greatest and most 
genuine wonder amongst the marvels in which the 
Pimento company was so rich. He knew every- 
body and everything — he saw everything, he was 
simply everything. Not a nail had time to rust 
beneath his observant eye ; he portioned out the 
food for the animals, and brought up the wild cubs 
by hand ; he conducted the correspondence for the 
illiterate director, and arranged the announcements 
and programmes for printing ; his imagination 
was inexhaustible in the composing of designs for 
gigantic, screaming, coloured posters ; and without 
his calming influence the ear-piercing discords of 
the little orchestra would have been unbearable. 


AUKADAUBA 


105 


His reputation as an artist was, however, most 
loudly trumpeted abroad by the immense pictures 
painted on the outside of the show, representing 
scenes of combat dripping with gore in impossible 
landscapes. They all dated from the time when 
he, “an animal painter giving the greatest future 
promise,” fell in love with an English lady, a lion- 
tamer. Thenceforth, painting and sighing, he had 
followed the fortunes of the menagerie, till the 
lady ran away with a most unromantic master- 
miller from Nimes, and Signor Pimento put a stop 
to the scenes of carnage because “ they used up 
too much canvas.” 

After that he devoted himself to “ plastic art ” 
by getting up artificial savages for the menagerie. 
A savage was an indispensable item in the Pimento 
show, whereby it surpassed all rivals by “the 
height of Chimborazo ! ” as Gingo’s jargon went. 
Real savages, however, were generally difficult to 
procure, and often still more difficult to manage. 
“ Bah ! why worry yourself to death over such a 
pack of idiots ! ” said Mr. Gingo. “ The devil 
would be in it. Signor Pimento, if I couldn’t paint 
them up for you as real as life ! ” 

His ideas for the production of artificial savages 
were composed partly of his recollections of original 
models, partly of vague notions gathered from odd 


io6 


LOU 


natural history books, and he shrank from no 
strong artistic measures in order to attain his 
ideal. Thus did he succeed in educating various 
worthy and fairly civilised people up to a passable 
degree of barbarity. 

But never had Mr. Gingo achieved such a bar- 
barian as this newest Aukadauba, formerly called 
Lou. On this occasion he had surpassed himself, not 
one of the twenty Aukadaubas had come anywhere 
near this “champion Ai production.” Not even 
the last one, whom Signor Pimento in speaking to 
Lou had described as having died of melancholy, 
but who had in reality simply gone off with part of 
the cash. He was a locksmith’s apprentice from 
Rouen, hoping to escape behind this black mask 
from his military duties, and who made himself ex- 
tremely savage, especially when the red-coats were 
more than usually numerous amongst the audience. 

Mr. Gingo was pleased to affect a becoming 
modesty. “ Hang it all, who could help making 
something phenomenal with such raw material to 
work upon } ” Then with a resounding slap on 
Lou’s chest, “ I just ask you now, look at that 
bronze ! And feel this hair, firm as a mattress — 
eh ? And those teeth ! Did you ever see such a 
tongue as that fellow has got ? And after the 
astonishing gibberish this gentleman manages to 


AUKADAUBA 


107 


talk — why, my Ginganese will be child’s play to 
him.” 

Under Ginganese he understood a language of 
his own invention, a perfectly unintelligible mish- 
mash of inarticulate sounds in which his “ system 
of training ” for the career of a savage culminated. 

“ Give you my word, all the learned Professors 
in Europe will be breaking their teeth over this 
newest edition of Ginga.” 

For a time Lou was the most brilliant attrac- 
tion of the show ; thanks to Mr. Gingo’s puffs, his 
fame cast even “ the gigantic yawn-power ” of the 
crocodile and the chimpanzee’s “ ludicrous likeness 
to man ” in the shade. 

Mr. Gingo was a master in the art of puff. If 
the interest of the public flagged, or they were 
slow to come in, it was his strident voice, out- 
blaring the trumpets, which brought them in shoals 
to the ticket-office. The baits he threw out to 
them were so strong that even the wariest rose to 
them. With the dexterity of a juggler he let 
the dazzling words — extra, supra, prime, gala — 
scintillate before the eyes of the crowd. His 
superlatives had all the exhilarating effect of a 
burst of fireworks. 

“ Walk in, walk in, ladies and gentlemen ! See 
the non-plus ultrrr-ra of a wild man, Don Auka- 


io8 


LOU 


dauba Balala from Ginganesia ! Savage ! Savage !! 
Savage ! ! ! ” And after every word a resounding 
bang of the whip against the painted canvas ; or 
he would confound a peasant audience by shouting 
in authoritative tones and with a knowing twinkle 
of the eye, “ Mundus vult de ci—pi I ” 

At first Lou displayed a childish delight in the 
performance. The others laughed to see the 
ardour with which he worked up his part. Gia- 
cometta, Pimento’s pretty little daughter, the way- 
ward Puck of the company, “ died of laughing,” 
and spurred him on with “That’s not ferocious 
enough — wilder, wilder yet, Monsieur Tatarati ! ” 

Mr. Gingo was half annoyed : “ Hang it all, 
don’t spoil him. I am thankful he’s as savage as 
he is. The more savage he thinks himself the 
better. What are other people proud of — these 
men of a ‘ higher grade of civilisation } ’ Why 
of a tab of coloured ribbon in their button-holes, 
of a meaningless little ‘de’ in front of their 
name.” 

Lou’s savageness was almost too real. With a 
hideous hoo ! and hoo-ha ! he bounded from be- 
hind the curtain and advanced with terrific leaps 
to the edge of the platform, glittering and jingling 
and rattling in all the bravery of his costume. 
The gleaming teeth gnashed gruesomely between 


AUKADAUBA 


109 


the wide black lips, while he rolled his eyes and 
darted murderous glances at the audience. 

Some of the foremost spectators fell back terror- 
stricken — women screamed, children began to cry. 
But these results only urged him on to further 
extravagances. He rushed madly about the little 
stage, his lance in rest as if to storm the audience ; 
or swinging his war-club round his head with force 
enough to lay all civilisation even with the ground. 

To all this he kept up a running accompani- 
ment of howls. A frightful uproar broke out in 
the cages ; all the animals howled and raged with 
him, driven to the verge of madness by Auka- 
dauba’s exciting gestures. It was a ghastly concert 
calculated to make the hearts of those present 
quake in their breasts. 

Unfortunately, the most sensational point of 
the entertainment was missing. Lou steadfastly 
refused to perform a certain part of the tradi- 
tional programme : he refused to bite off the 
heads of pigeons, whether alive or only stuffed to 
simulate life. 

But why not ? Whence this fastidiousness, 
which even Mr. Gingo’s powers of persuasion 
failed to remove ? Was it a secret sense of 
shame which penetrated even the dark skin of 
this despised and down-trodden piece of humanity 


no 


LOU 


— shame that he should even act a piece of 
brutality before an audience which claimed to 
rank so much higher in the human scale than he 
ever could ? 

Curious how this feeling first took shape. He 
had not refused to give it a trial. As he stood 
there, having conquered his first movement of re- 
pulsion and prepared to take the head of the bird 
between his teeth, his eye fell upon two casual 
spectators — Zeppa and Mr. Jim the chimpanzee. 

Zeppa looked fixedly at him, turning his large, 
half-mournful, half-pleading gaze upon his friend, 
as if to restrain him from this unworthy deed. 
Something of that supernatural look was in his 
eyes which once before had terrified Lou by its 
suggestion of humanity. Jim the chimpanzee, 
too, stared at him with an old-fashioned, human 
expression, and just the ghost of an ironical smile 
on his elderly wrinkled features. Under the 
spell of the two pairs of eyes, Lou slowly laid 
down the pigeon. 

No ; he was not going to sink so deeply int(i 
barbarism as to have a lower standard of the 
fitness of things than a dog or a monkey. No ; 
he would not pretend to be more of an animal 
than the beasts themselves — he would not eat 
live pigeons! He would grin and gnash his 


AUKADAUBA 


III 


teeth as much as they liked, and howl till he 
roused the envy of the best howlers in the cages ; 
but he would not eat live pigeons. 

Mr. Gingo was beside himself. “ What ! teeth 
like that and refuse to do it ! It was a sin and a 
shame ! If I had such a prime set I would do 
nothing else all day but bite off heads. You have 
no idea what a sensation you will create. Now, 
don’t you think you would get accustomed to it ? ” 

But Lou was firm. 

Signor Pimento and Mr. Gingo could only 
marvel at the unaccountable fads of real savages. 
They had been deterred by no such delicate 
scruples on the part of Aukadauba’s civilised 
predecessors. 

However, they excused this affectation in con- 
sideration of the Nubian’s brilliant qualifications, 
and cut out that part of the programme all the 
more readily, that with the co-operation of the dog 
they had arranged a perfectly new and sensational 
closing scene. 

Zeppa proved himself an artist. 

“ He lays his part on rather thick,” observed 
Mr. Gingo ; “ but better too much of the savage 
than too little ; ” and they let the dog alone. 

He was scarcely to be held in till the end, 
Aukadauba’s war-cries driving him to the verge of 


II2 


LOU 


madness. When, at length, he was let loose, he 
hurled himself at the audience, baying as if in a 
paroxysm of rage — hideously tricked out and 
disfigured by a fantastic mane of waving, jingling 
tags and ends. He tore about like a maniac, 
flew backwards and forwards with terrific bounds, 
his awful howls almost drowning Aukadauba’s 
terrible war-chant. 

The spectators asked each other in alarm how 
such a monster could be allowed at large. When 
they left the show and breathed again more freely, 
most of them trying to conceal the traces of their 
terror by an over-confident smile, all of them 
looking more or less bewildered, Mr. Gingo would 
rub his hands delightedly, while a knowing twinkle 
lit up his languid eye : “ There’s naught so stupid 
as folk — eh. Master Lou 1 ” 

Lou would laugh with all his thirty-two teeth, 
as he sought to calm the dog, still raging as if in 
justifiable wrath. 

Yes, it was splendid, for once, with all his heart 
and soul, to make thorough fools of these people who 
had so often despised and trodden him under foot ! 

Zeppa, good old boy, took the matter decidedly 
too seriously and tragically. 

One should only laugh at them, Zeppa ; laugh, 
that’s all — laugh ! 


CHAPTER XI. 

‘'BECAUSE YOU ARE BLACK.^' 

" Quiet, Zeppa ! Zeppa, be quiet ! ” 

Alas ! no persuasion, no cajolery had any effect 
upon the dog now ; a fierceness had come over 
him which set at naught all gentler methods of 
control. He had grown savage and quick-tem- 
pered, and even had dangerous fits of snappish- 
ness. 

Lou was greatly concerned : did he under- 
stand the dog no longer, or did the dog purposely 
misunderstand him } 

During Aukadauba’s performance, Zeppa played 
his part more naturally each day — alarmingly so. 
A tone of real anger broke through his hoarse 
barking, and his howls outrivalled the furious 
utterances of the most untamed beasts in the 
menagerie. Lou expected every minute to have 
to restrain him from carrying his assumed char- 
acter too far, and really attacking the audience ; 


H 


114 


LOU 


the grounds for this anxiety becoming more and 
more real, both Pimento and Gingo expressed 
their misgivings as to allowing the dog to appear 
again in public. 

Was it the life in the midst of wild beasts and 
the constant evidences of their untamed nature, 
but little controlled by whip and food, that had 
roused his blood to fever-pitch } Or had he 
taken Aukadauba’s savageness for the real thing, 
and felt he must compete with him ? For a dog 
ought surely to be wilder than a man. Or was 
Zeppa ashamed of his part } Did he think it 
beneath the dignity of any decent dog, or was 
perhaps ashamed for Lou, ashamed in his stead — 
the animal for the man } Lou brooded deeply 
over it, and wondered what it could possibly 
mean. 

Mr. Gingo said once, “ The beast got too much 
meat — it excited him ; they had better reduce his 
portions.” 

But at this Lou flew into a terrible passion : 
“ What ! they would starve Zeppa ! ” 

They reassured him ; but thenceforth the 
Nubian kept a jealous watch upon them, lest 
in the distribution of food Zeppa should go 
short. 

“ Lou is savage enough by himself,” said the 


BECAUSE YOU ARE BLACK I15 

Others ; “ there won’t be much difficulty in persuad- 
ing the public that this Aukadauba is the genuine 
article.” 

There was some truth in the remark ; like 
Zeppa, Lou, too, was changed. His success as 
Aukadauba had roused the Nubian’s ambition, 
and the sharply acrid fumes of the menagerie, 
which he breathed all day, seemed to rise to his 
brain and make him thirst for new and far other 
triumphs. 

A longing kindled in him, and grew to be a 
fierce desire, that he might venture something 
great, unheard of — something really dangerous, 
under the shadow of death as it were. It must 
be grand and glorious to be gazed at as a hero, 
in wonder and admiration, like Signor Farmilli, the 
lion-tamer, who put his life at the mercy of the 
wild beasts several times a day. One false move- 
ment, one glance omitted, one touch of physical 
weakness, or an unexpected outburst of temper 
in one of the animals, upsetting all previous cal- 
culations, and he was lost ! 

Yet day after day the man slipped in through 
the narrow barred doorway, and stood before the 
beasts, upright and commanding, armed only with 
the power of his eye, and directing their move- 
ments with a turn of his slight whip. Woe to him, 


LOU 


it6 

if it should ever occur to one of them to doubt 
that this was the man who could call down the 
terrors of the storm from heaven, who with the 
lightning of his glance and the thunder of his 
voice was able to crush every living thing within 
his reach ! 

Ah, Lou ! Lou ! if thou couldst but stand so 
once, only once, and feel all the fire and the rap- 
ture of the high consciousness of command — oh, 
for one short minute to be a god ! Thus might 
much of the ignominy of thy dark life be blotted 
out ; then, perhaps, thou mightest dare to call 
thyself a man amongst thy brother-men, in spite 
of thy dusky skin ! 

Lou felt that Farmilli despised him for lowering 
himself to play the fool as he did, just as the 
grave, taciturn man rebuked Gingo’s blatant char- 
latanism with his silent contempt. 

Once only had Farmilli expended any words 
on Lou. He had come across him as Lou was 
leaving the stage. “ Pity for such a handsome 
lad ! ” he murmured, as if to himself, with a rapid 
blinking of the eyelids. 

Farmilli lived his own life, and took very little 
notice of anybody but his beasts. He was a man 
of middle height, thick-set, with a remarkably 
small head set on the top of very broad shoulders 


** because you ARE BLACK'* 


ii; 

The face with its olive colouring had the set, 
immovable look of a bronze cast. Only in the 
eyes, which embraced a wide range of vision, there 
glowed a dark fire, ready at any moment to burst 
into devouring flames. His head was always 
covered by a plain round cap, because one side of 
his scalp had been badly torn by the claws of a 
young tiger and now bore an ugly scar. The 
thumb of the left hand was missing, but he 
always carried his whip in that hand ; the right 
arm being partially paralysed by a bite from a 
jaguar. There was a certain distinguished repose 
in all his movements ; he scarcely spoke except 
to his animals, but with them he could be very 
eloquent. No man had ever seen a smile on 
those clear-cut lips. 

Farmilli came from the province of Piacenza, 
where so many lion tamers come from. It would 
have been difficult to guess his age; judging from 
certain eccentric ways he had which contrasted 
oddly with his occupation, one would have taken 
him to be very young. 

For years he had been betrothed to a pretty, 
well-to-do girl in his native place, and he employed 
a considerable portion of his spare time^in writing 
endless letters to her — moving, fiery love-letters. 
Or rather he painted them, for the lines crept along 


ii8 


LOU 


but slowly, full of carefully formed, uncouth letters, 
and it required many a day before such a work of 
art was ready for the post. He often destroyed 
what had cost him so much labour to put together, 
with far from perfect writing materials, too. 

The others who saw him write had no idea of 
what it was that drove him to wield so difficult a 
weapon as the pen. He had now been betrothed 
some years, but the wedding had been put off 
again and again because he could not bring him- 
self to part from his beloved beasts, which he had 
promised to do in that event. 

Alas ! two passions tugged at his good honest 
heart ; on one side the love for his absent sweet- 
heart, on the other an almost unholy passion for 
his profession ; here the sweet fetters that bound 
him to the girl, there the magic toils in which his 
animals held him. Thus a constant warfare went 
on in his breast under which he suffered severely, 
and which he was best able to keep down by 
fighting it out in his clumsy literary exercises. 

Without doubt the lion-tamer held Lou in 
contempt, but on Zeppa he lavished all the kind- 
ness of which he was capable. Did he pity the 
dog because it was being degraded and its noble 
nature warped through the ridiculous rapacity of 
mankind ? 


BECAUSE YOU ARE BLACK 


119 

Zeppa seemed to appreciate Farmilli’s high- 
toned, independent manner, and showed himself 
very susceptible to his attentions. The wise 
creature observed — made comparisons ; here the 
real true hero placing himself in fearful urgent 
danger, with eye inspired and heart full of the joy 
of combat — there the painted puppet taught to 
frighten people with an artificial ferocity. 

He compared and made a distinction. Lou 
felt it, and the dog began to show more and more 
plainly how much he was attracted to the lion- 
tamer. 

It gnawed at Lou’s heart ; it held his every 
thought fast as in a vice. 

The dog lay at his feet, his head lying heavy 
on his outstretched paws. Lou spoke to him, 
pouring out before the dog all the love and all 
the tenderness which filled his heart, his voice 
trembling with eagerness and sorrow. The hound 
never moved — did not seem to hear. 

Did Zeppa love him no longer ! 

Then an anxious, beseeching whisper, “Zeppa 
not love Lou now ? ” His voice broke as if arrested 
by a flood of tears. 

Zeppa raised his eyes — not those eyes before 
whose gaze, that time when he had beaten the 
dog, Lou had fled as from a suddenly confronting 


120 


LOU 


conscience. Now they gazed at him in unutterable 
sadness, that was pity gleaming in their moibt 
depths. 

The hound pitied him ! And if something lid 
not occur to prevent it, soon, very soon, that pity 
might — nay, must — turn to contempt. 

Had it all been f “ nothing, all the trouble and 
misery, the hunger and bitter humiliations they had 
endured together ? 

The fear was upon him once more, the terrible 
fear that he might lose Zeppa. But this time 
not by any sudden catastrophe — not by man’s 
rude hand ; no— he himself was thrusting the dog 
from his former place, slowly closing his heart’s 
door upon him. 

Lou resolved to reconquer the animal’s respect 
with one decisive blow. He openly declared that 
he would no longer play Aukadauba. 

What ? Why He must be mad ! Did he 
want a higher salary ? ” 

“ No, not that,” said Lou ; and he gave Pi- 
mento and Gingo to understand that he was 
ashamed of it — that to act the part of a savage 
went against his nature. Hesitating and reluc- 
tant, he brought out the real reason at last : 
“ Zeppa not like to be savage any more.” 

Ah, ha ! so the dog was at the bottom of it ! 


BECAUSE YOU ARE BLACK'^ 


I2I 


The whole menagerie would have to give way to 
this wonder of wonders next, they supposed. 
They hardly saw at first how he could have come 
to this determination, but the-* knew, they could 
not fail to see, what a positively uncanny influence 
the animal exercised over this queer specimen of 
mankind. 

They had long detested Zeppa on account of 
his fierce, unruly ways, and would have put him 
on the chain long ago if Lou had not been so 'set 
against it. 

“ You must be quite mad, Lou ! ” cried Mr. 
Gingo. “ What are you ashamed of } Go to any 
of the Imperial or Royal and other Zoological 
Gardens where they exhibited curious people — 
not half so valuable as you — beside the wild 
beasts. You will see then whether it is not con- 
sidered an honour to be shown as a savage.” 

Signor Pimento, however, burst in angrily : 
“ Very well, then, vecchio mio^ you know where 
you came from ; good — addio^ but not d rive- 
derci! ” 

Lou started : they were showing him the door, 
then — him and Zeppa ; and outside it hunger 
and misery were on the watch for them to swallow 
them up. 

He bethought himself and agreed to stay, but 


122 


LOU 


Zeppa was not to appear again in public — not on 
any account. 

But that was just what the other two had long 
wanted. He had better put his precious Zeppa 
under a glass case ! 

So Aukadauba appeared without the dog. 

But this was only a half measure ; the hound 
demanded more. It looked as if he were break- 
ing away wholly from Lou’s influence ; Farmilli’s 
power over the animal increased rapidly. Him 
only would it obey, and he it was who managed 
to hush up or prevent many of its delinquencies 
in the menagerie. It was no wonder that the 
man who could subjugate the beasts of the wilder- 
ness by his glances should succeed in bending the 
fine intelligence of this dog to his will. 

At last Lou could bear it no longer. One 
morning he went up to Farmilli, who was engaged 
in conversation with Essed, the majestic flowing- 
maned lion from the Cape. 

“ Moussou,” began Lou timidly. 

“Very good,” continued Farmilli to the lion, 
“ we will order a couple of tender cutlets for your 
Majesty.” It had pushed one paw through the 
bars, and Farmilli stroked the golden brown fur. 

“ Moussou ” 

The lion grunted with pleasure, and in the 


BECAUSE YOU ARE BLACK'^ 123 

black ball of his foot the points of his claws 
twitched in and out playfully. 

“ Lou go in there — Lou not be afraid, Moussou.” 
Farmilli turned his head slightly with a quick 
side-glance at the speaker’s face. 

“Lou like Essed — Lou go in to Essed ; Lou 
not afraid.” 

“ What do you want ? ” Only the tone showed 
surprise, not a muscle moved in the lion-tamer’s 
face. Then without looking at Lou, his head 
slightly on one side, his eyes still fixed on the 
lion, he said : “You want to go into Essed’s 
cage — beside that lion ” 

Lou nodded with decision. 

“What are you thinking of.? You can’t play 
tricks with an old gentleman of that sort — can 
one, Essed .? ” 

Essed opened his jaws in a yawn, slowly 
stretching them wider and wider — a terrific chasm, 
showing the rough and prickly tongue. 

There was a pause. When Farmilli spoke 
again, it was in the clear, metallic ringing tones 
he was wont to use to the animals during the 
performance. “ You are not afraid ? ” he asked. 

The lion-tamer’s eyes were fixed on Lou’s face, 
boring themselves in, holding him fast as under a 
spell, darting their lightnings into the innermost 


124 


LOU 


recesses of hi's soul. No lie, no dissembling, was 
possible under that gaze. 

“ Not afraid,” answered Lou. His eyes flashed. 

“ Very well, we will try it at once. Come 
with me.” 

The eyes never left Lou’s face, watching for the 
slightest quiver that might indicate a trace of 
fear. But the face remained unmoved as if cast 
in bronze. 

They went up to one of the cages in which two 
young lions were rolling over one another in play. 
Farmilli struck his whip against the bars, and they 
sprang at them, open-mouthed and growling. 

“We will go in here. Signor,” said Farmilli. 
He pointed the lions to a corner with his fore- 
finger. Unwillingly, with long, undulating, cat- 
like movements, they retreated into it. 

“ But consider well. Signor, that there is a great 
difference between the paltry frightening of silly 
people and being able to command the obedience 
of these animals. One must love them, really 
love these creatures, if one is to govern them. One 
can seldom love human beings, you know. Now 
come along ! ” And Farmilli stuck the key in the 
little side-door of the cage. But he did not open 
it ; he stopped, turned round, and his eyes beamed 
with a kindly light. 


••BECAUSE YOU ARE BLACK>> 125 

‘‘You are courageous, Signor,” he said with an 
affectionate tone in his beautiful sbnorous voice. 
“ You are brave ; I am glad of that. Look you, 
I wanted to put you to the test. But we cannot 
go in there, I dare not let you ! * 

Lou stared at him blankly. 

“ Why not ? Well, because you are black. 
Don’t be hurt, the animals have no regard for a 
black man. Something disastrous would happen. 
Don’t be offended, but it is so. And have men 
any regard for you ? Look how they trample 
upon you and ill-treat you, and count you lower 
than the beasts ; and yet you are a man like them, 
and like them made in the image of God, as they 
boast in their arrogance. Ah, these men ! these men !” 

Lou stared at the lion-tamer ; he tried to 
stammer something, but failed ; his head sank 
upon his breast. 

“ Don’t take it so much to heart,” said the other 
to comfort him. “ Perhaps we will try it some 
day after all. You have such famous teeth, maybe 
if you were to show them at the animals ” 

“ But you should show them at people too, do 
you hear ? Show them well ! ” he called after him 
as the poor fellow stumbled blindly away. 

Lou flung himself across Zeppa’s broad back 
and there fought out his agony. 


126 


LOU 


“ Because you are black.” Of all the lion-tamer 
had said to him, that alone he had understood. 
Because he was black — no respect, no love, no 
rights, no pity, no hope, no joy — because he was 
black ! 

Did Zeppa, too, despise him for that ? Zeppa 
licked the Nubian’s fevered, burning brow love- 
ingly. 

Ah, Zeppa is better than the rest ; Zeppa would 
not despise him 1 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE DINNER-PARTY. 

It was at the fair at St. Malo that Pimento gave 
a dinner-party in the menagerie. It arose out 
of a joke ; a porcupine had come to grief and 
had to be killed, whereupon Monsieur Gingo 
declared it would make a very excellent dish. 
The others laughed, seeing how the creature 
bristled with quills. 

“ Leave it to me,” said Gingo, tossing back the 
weeping willow locks from his face, “ and I’ll 
engage to cook you a dish which you might 
search all the restaurants in Paris for in vain.” 

“ It’s a pity there are not more of us,” said 
Madame Criardeau derisively. She had a ready 
tongue, and trained the parrots and other small 
deer. 

“ We shall have to invite some more people, or 
we shall never get through it,” remarked the 
wrinkled old monkey-keeper, pulling out some 
of the quills as playthings for his chimpanzees. 


128 


LOU 


“ The Giantess next door must not miss it,” they 
continued, 

“ Nor His Tinyness Admiral Tom Turtle, as a 
pendant to her.” 

“ How jolly ! What splendid fun ! ” cried 
Giacometta, clapping her little hands ; and she 
teased her papa till he was obliged to give in to 
everything. 

“ You may invite the Marionettes from opposite, 
for all I care,” he grumbled. 

So invitations were issued to the neighbouring 
shows, and there was much serious consultation 
as to whether offence would be given if this or 
that company was not invited ; the Menagerie 
Pimento did not wish to lay itself open to reproach 
on the score of good-fellowship. Doubts were 
entertained, however, about the proprietor of the 
“ Monster Ox,” a little fussy blatant fellow who 
made more noise over his wonder of an animal — 
quite an ordinary piece of cattle, between ourselves 
— than ten menageries put together. Ah, bah ! 
the Menagerie Pimento could afford to be 
generous ! 

It was late in the evening ; the day’s work was 
over for the drums and trumpets and the hoarse 
voices of the showmen ; only the great barrel- 
organ of the carrousel still piped and trilled its 


THE DINNER-PARTY 


monotonous tunes into the mild summer night, and 
far away in the distance sounded the wash of the 
in-coming tide. 

Part of the tent roof was rolled back, allowing 
the star-spangled sky to look down into the dim, 
yellow twilight of the menagerie, but feebly 
lighted up by smoking oil-lamps. 

In the middle stood the tables, made up of an 
assortment of cases, planks and poles, the diver- 
gencies in their height being too great to be 
concealed by the table cloths of varied shades of 
white with which they were covered. The dinner 
service too was very mixed, the menagerie’s collec- 
tion of dishes — none too well matched to begin 
with — having been supplemented by loans from the 
neighbouring tents and wine-stalls. No one plate 
matched another, and the glasses in particular 
were remarkable for a fine diversity in shapes and 
size. But Mr. Gingo, who arranged it all, declared 
that it was just this want of sameness which gave 
the genuine artistic character to the entertainment. 

Pimento’s vest shone in dazzling whiteness, and 
fat Madame Pimento’s red silk dress rustled and 
gleamed to such an extent that it excited the 
attention of the animals, accustomed as they were 
to strong effects. Giacometta sported the many 
coloured, spangled fancy costume in which she 

1 


130 


LOU 


usually graced the ticket-office, her merry black 
eyes flashing like diamonds. 

The first to arrive was the proprietress of the 
great Tombola booth, at the sign of the “Seven 
Wonders of the World,” an old acquaintance. 
Like Madame Pimento, she was stout and remark- 
able for a heavy moustache and a powerful bass 
voice which dominated every fair. 

“ She might have left her two- franc necklace 
at home,” Madame Criardeau whispered cuttingly 
to the other ladies ; “ she’s got a regular peal of 
bells round her neck.” 

At the same moment the owner of the ‘‘ Greatest 
Panorama in the World ” stumbled in, with his 
wife on his arm ; he very bland, very smiling, 
with a famished-looking face and shabby clothes ; 
she, a maypole, with great goggle eyes, reminding 
one of the glasses of her own panorama. 

“ B’jour, Monsieur ! B’jour, Madame !” screeched 
a parrot in very distinct tones. 

Madame Pimento was extremely annoyed ; she 
had intended to be very reserved towards these 
people, and now the stupid parrot must needs go 
and spoil it all. They should not have been 
invited — the “ Greatest Panorama in the World ” 
was very shaky on its feet, after all, and had 
scarcely any custom. 


THE DINNER-PARTY 


131 

She nodded to them with the carelessly lofty 
air with which she was wont to greet the second 
circle people on a half-price day. 

The wife proceeded at once to glare into the 
cages, till the animals started up in alarm at her 
glassy round eyes. 

The curtain was now pushed aside for a portly 
and most distinguished-looking personage in a tail- 
coat and white necktie, who made his first bow on 
the top step, and then tripped down with dainty and 
elastic tread to repeat it ceremoniously, first before 
Madame Pimento, and then before Monsieur. 

Ah, Professor, delighted to see you ! ” said 
Pimento, winking his left eye nervously. Madame’s 
curtsey rustled deep into the stiff silken folds of 
her brilliant dress. 

This was the “ Hall of Magic and World- 
renowned Institute of Apparitions and Chiro- 
mancy,” represented in the person of the great 
Professor Blaginsky, necromancer in ordinary to 
several European Courts. 

More than one coloured ribbon figured in his 
button-hole, and his smooth-shaven, bluish coun- 
tenance wore the condescending smile of the 
successful diplomatist. 

Observing these ceremonious greetings, Jim the 
chimpanzee could restrain himself no longer, and, 


132 


LOU 


greatly impeded in his progress on two feet by his 
heavy winter cloak, tottered up to the distinguished 
guest, bowed solemnly and held out his hairy 
hand. The Professor returned the bow, as if it 
were quite in the usual order of things, in the 
same portly manner with which he had greeted the 
Pimentos; everybody laughing except the Professor 
and Jim, who took the matter perfectly seriously. 

Other guests followed and the place began to 
fill, but conversation certainly languished. Each 
separate firm held watchfully aloof from the rest, 
the petty jealousy of competition preventing any 
freedom of intercourse, while here and there 
frankly hostile glances showed a state of open 
warfare. They looked at the animals, less from 
interest or curiosity than embarrassment ; they 
tried to make friends with the chimpanzee, even 
going so far as to tease him, which the old gentle- 
man took extremely ill. The parrots kept up an 
incessant nasal chatter, and favoured the company 
with a piercing selection from their conversa- 
tional stock. From the open-air kitchen close by 
came the sound of fizzling and bubbling, while a 
greasy smell of frying filtered through the canvas 
and mingled with the penetrating odours of the 
menagerie. 

A whole group of guests now burst in. They 


THE DINNER-PARTY 133 

were in the highest spirits — you could hear them 
laughing and whooping from afar. It was “ The 
Great International Shooting Gallery,” with four 
of the “ First Beauties of Europe.” 

A Norwegian ship’s captain, who had dropped 
considerable sums of money each day, partly at 
the shooting gallery, partly for champagne in 
company with the “ First Beauties of Europe,” led 
in two of the ladies, or, more correctly speaking, 
had to be led by them owing to the unsteadiness 
of his gait. Behind them the owner of the shoot- 
ing gallery, likewise tipsy, tumbled in with two 
more ladies, and — could it be possible > — he was 
in his shirt-sleeves. One of the ladies carried 
his coat over her arm. 

To such a supper — and in shirt-sleeves ! Was 
that a way to behave ! 

Madame Pimento was furious. “That’s what 
comes of asking every rag, tag, and bobtail in the 
place.” However, as hostess, she must control her 
feelings ; she merely concentrated all her wrath 
in one annihilating glance which she hurled at her 
husband. 

The excessively bare gleaming shoulders of the 
ladies excited much remark, their trains whirled 
up the dry dust underfoot. Madame Criardeau 
pronounced the whole thing to be tres fort! 


134 


LOU 


But this was not all. Two more hangers-on of 
the shooting gallery, young fashionables from the 
neighbouring Dinard, peered grinning through the 
curtains to see if they might venture to join the 
party. Madame Pimento pretended not to see 
them, turning her broad back upon them. And 
whom had they finally to thank for their invitation? 
Why, none other than Jim. He stole up the steps 
unobserved, offered his hand with much solemnity 
to each gentleman, and so saved the reputation of 
the house for hospitality. 

Everybody laughed ; Signor Pimento more than 
any one, on purpose to spite his wife, who, crimson 
with fury, would have liked to lock the monkey up. 

Suddenly, in the midst of the hubbub a tragic 
apparition, like a spirit form conjured up by 
Professor Blaginsky — Miss Nala Dajamante, the 
celebrated Indian Serpent Queen — stood before 
them. Noiseless as her own serpents she must 
have glided in, and now stood in all her sylph-like 
slenderness, drawn to her full height, her arms 
crossed upon her bosom in token of greeting, her 
lustreless eyes gazing vaguely forth from the thick 
veil of waving hair which nearly concealed her 
features. They hardly knew how to receive her, 
and thought they had better place her beside good 
old Lou at table. 


THE DINNER-PARTY 135 

“ Nasty fellow ! ” shrieked a parrot. “ Nasty 
fellow ! ” and he grew quite ungovernable with 
rage. 4 rr 

There was another roar of laughter, for who 
should appear at that moment but the proprietor of 
“ The Monster Ox of the World,” a little shrivelled 
person with a cross-grained face, in which the 
features were for ever on the move ; the furrows 
in his brow, the mouth, the nostrils ; the moustache 
drawn out in two threads at mathematical right 
angles with his nose ; even the shoulders twitched 
nervously. 

“ Nasty fellow ! ” The man, taking this peculiar 
greeting to himself, was on the point of turning 
back. Signor Pimento had to bring him in by 
main force. “ You had much better have let him 
go,” hissed the infuriated Directress. 

Two voices were audible outside — a rough 
contralto trying to persuade a thin, piping soprano. 
It refused — no, it would not, conld not go in. 
How could a giantess be so bashful ? “ She was 

frightened, really she was so frightened, of the 
wild beasts ! ” — poor little thing. 

She appeared at last. The wooden steps 
groaned under the vast burden of this three- 
hundred-weight of human flesh. The whole party 
was taken by surprise, for only a few had seen 


136 


LOU 


this wonder in her own show-room. Jim, who had 
been crouching near the entrance, on the watch 
to receive any new-comers, glared up at her, made 
a terrified grimace and fled away on all-fours, 
leaving his mantle behind him. 

Mademoiselle Cordula’s pretty childish face 
flushed up to the roots of her flaxen hair, and her 
beautiful azure blue eyes gazed timidly down upon 
the assembled company. 

Why could she not get over this foolish habit 
of blushing ! Her proprietress, a dark and resolute 
lady with manly fists and brusque address, had 
long been in despair over the fact that the young 
giantess could not be brought to adopt the manner 
suited to her extraordinary bulk. Mademoiselle 
Cordula found it harder than ever to repress this 
unfortunate weakness when in moving before an 
audience she felt her huge form quaking and 
tottering beneath her. 

“ Ah, the gaping show was no place for her ; 
why had they not left her in her quiet village 1 ” 
she lamented often enough. 

“When le bon Dieu has stuffed and padded 
anybody as He has you, you ought to be able to 
show yourself as coolly and as unconcerned as a 
rhinoceros,^’ her manageress as often retorted. 

That lady now positively drove her before her 


THE DINNER-PARTY 


137 

into the tent. The Pimentos received her most 
affably. Ah, these curious eyes staring up at 
her ! Measuring the vast circumference of her 
bare arms, revelling in the sight of her billowy 
white shoulders, never before had she appeared 
before such a professional audience. The “ First 
Beauties of Europe” had difficulty in restraining 
the Norwegian captain from " making sure for 
himself,” as he expressed it. 

“ Pray do not forget where you are, gentlemen ! ” 
observed the severe voice of the Directress from 
out the circle surrounding the giantess. 

It was like a prearranged programme, in which 
each part was to outvie the one before. For now 
His Excellency Admiral Tom Turtle arrived. 
Where ? Why, there, in the arms of a corpulent 
and extremely heated lady, another giantess 
serving as a foil to the dwarf. 

With much excited trampling the little man 
disengaged himself from the cloak which had 
concealed him from the gaping crowd as he eame 
along, and with a self-satisfied smirk nodded his 
large, wrinkled dwarfs head at the company. 
No one could reproach him with shyness, he was 
not in the least ashamed of his .size. He offered 
his little withered hand all round, shaking it so 
vigorously that his whole body wagged with 


138 LOU 

it, and was never at a loss for an appropriate 
remark. 

He requested to be put down from the arms of 
his conductress. She took the miniature arm- 
chair which she carried in the other hand, set it 
on the table, and helped the little fellow into it. 
There he sat among the salad and compote dishes, 
in his trim little uniform, with all the self-posses- 
sion of a great personage, glancing his eye in a 
business-like manner over the table, as if it were a 
ship which he in his quality of admiral was going 
to navigate through an ocean of dangers. 

With firm, assured step, a man with a long, 
grey, waving beard now entered. Nobody knew 
him. He touched his hat slightly, said nothing, 
took no notice of anybody, took everything for 
granted, and made himself quite at home. The 
Directress tried in vain to put him down with one 
of her crushing looks. “ It was high time to 
begin,” she remarked to Pimento, “ or there would 
be more of these Marionettes falling on them from 
the skies.” 

Two gendarmes looked through the curtains 
with a semi-official air. “ Better ask them in,” 
said Pimento, just to aggravate his wife. 

One of the first to seat themselves at the table 
was the Unknown, whom nobody had invited. 


THE DINNER-PARTY 


139 


The Professor was given the place of honour be- 
tween the Pimentos, Jim had already placed him- 
self comfortably at the other end, from whence he 
watched with the utmost composure the struggles 
of the others in arranging themselves. There was 
an evident paucity both of seats and covers, and 
they had to send round hurriedly in the neigh- 
bourhood to borrow table requisites. And as to 
the seats, why they could easily crush together a 
little. 

An ordinary chair not being considered strong 
enough for “ the biggest lady of the universe,” 
they pushed in a heavy case for her which looked 
remarkably like a cage ; for the fun of the con- 
trast, Admiral Tom Turtle was to be her neigh- 
bour, so they placed his chair on the case beside 
her. 

In her thoughtful way, Giacometta had taken 
special trouble about a cover for his Excellency. 
“ He would be sure to like a child’s knife and 
fork.” 

But his Excellency was very much put out at 
the idea, and they had to change it as quickly as 
possible “ He can get into awful tantrums, the 
little toad,” remarked his corpulent proprietress. 

Offence was given in another quarter as well ; 
as luck would have it, the “ Monster Ox ” had 


140 


LOU 


come to be seated between one of the gendarmes 
and the chimpanzee. It was too bad ; here was 
a second insult. He finally revenged himself by 
falling upon the food like a beast of prey. 

Lou was to have sat next Miss Nala Daga- 
mante, but somehow or other Farmilli had got 
between them. This gave occasion for fresh 
merriment ; he would be able to keep these two 
wild beings in order, they said, and prevent mis- 
chief. All three sat in dead silence, only the 
lion-tamer kept a sharply observant eye on the 
whole party, without ever turning his head. 

The “ International Shooting Gallery ” opposite 
to these three was all the more boisterous by 
contrast ; the drolleries of the captain and the 
side-splitting witticisms of the two galants from 
Dinard keeping the ladies in an uninterrupted 
roar of laughter ; charming music fluttering in 
airy roulades and shrill bell-like notes above the 
muffled conversation of the eaters. 

The animals had remained pretty quiet, only 
the monkeys were knocking one another about 
with guttural cries ; but they were none of them 
asleep, you could see their phosphorescent eyes 
gleaming through the bars. A tigress stood up- 
right on her hind-legs, her paws pressed against 
the iron bars, her glittering yellow eyes wandering 


THE DINNER-PARTY 


141 

in jerks and with a curious fixity of vision from 
one part of the table to another. 

The first courses were over. A movement 
swept along the guests. T/ie dish was coming. 
The porcupine! 'The roasted triumph of the 
evening 1 

Every eye was fixed upon the entrance, an 
expectant smile on every face. The captain in- 
formed them loudly of all the curious dishes he 
had partaken of in different quarters of the globe 
scrambled serpents’ eggs, alligator stew, and the 
wings of the flying dog soaked in oil, which tasted 
exactly like artichoke. 

“ The porcupine 1 Hurrah ! Here it comes ! ” 

Mr. Gingo stood at the entrance. He was in 
his shirt-sleeves, and his hair hung in heavy tufts 
over his heated face, which shone with grease 
from the fumes of the cooking. But his eyes 
sparkled with conscious triumph. In his hand 
he bore a deep dish, in the centre of which the 
brown back of the roast appeared from out a 
thick and steaming gravy. The animal’s quills 
were grouped round the dish in the form of a 
halo. 

There was a general exclamation ; they all 
wanted to see the wonderful dish, and crowded 
round Mr. Gingo. 


142 


LOU 


Gently — it should be passed round. Then 
with a smirk of perfect satisfaction, as if he had 
achieved the greatest triumph of his life, Mr. 
Gingo handed round the porcupine. 

They laughed at its size. “ But it’s genuine — 
extremely genuine ! ” cried Gingo ; and every- 
body should have a share, that he could gua- 
rantee as thoroughly experienced carver to the 
menagerie. 

The smell of the roast and the laughing and 
noise of the guests had roused the animals from 
their repose. The hyaena sniffed furiously through 
the bars, and the wolves leaped over one another 
in feverish excitement. Presently came the 
jaguar’s long-drawn howl — it was the signal for a 
general uproar. 

To this ghastly accompaniment of squealing, 
barking, howling, and roaring the piece de resis- 
iance was consumed. His Highness the vene- 
rable Essed alone disdained to add the thunder of 
his voice to this chorus. Dignified, majestic, his 
head with its magnificent mane a little raised, Lis 
slightly curved forepaws stretched out in front of 
him, he sat there gazing with a touch of sove- 
reign contempt in his golden-brown eyes at the 
silly ways of these paltry beings. 

Mademoiselle Cordula trembled with fright. 


THE DINNER-PARTY 


143 


and the Admiral took upon himself to reassure 
her. Indeed, he made himself extremely agree- 
able to the lady, and took every opportunity of 
drawing his chair a little closer to his neighbour’s 
bare shoulder. It was droll to see with what a 
lover-like glance his little blinking grey eyes 
wandered over the snowy expanse of those 
shoulders. 

The combined noise from people and animals 
grew so outrageous, that one of the gendarmes 
began to have official doubts as to whether he 
ought to permit such goings on at such an hour, 
but his companion reassured him with a contemp- 
tuous shrug. 

When the tumult had somewhat subsided. 
Professor Blaginsky arose and delivered himself 
of a speech, which he accompanied by much 
facial expression and graceful dramatic action of 
his heavily beringed hands, reminding one of his 
manner in the Hall of Magic. Nobody clearly 
understood what he was talking about, and as he 
entangled himself deeper and deeper in a laby- 
rinth of bombastic phrases, the International 
Shooting Gallery broke out at ever shorter 
intervals into applause, till at last the remains of 
the speech were swallowed up in a general roar 
of Bravo ! and Vi vat I 


144 


LOU 


The “ Monster Ox ” could restrain himself no 
longer ; he, too, would make a speech. He 
tapped on his glass, but nobody heard. He 
tapped louder — this was, of course, another inten- 
tional slight ; they were determined not to let 
him speak. 

He waved his hands wildly in the air, till 
Monsieur Jim came to his assistance and smote 
the glass till it rang again. 

He took a deep breath and began, flinging 
about him with the biggest terms he could find, 
fell into a frenzy, and let loose a perfect tempest 
of words. He shook his fists in the air, his actions 
growing more and more heated as if they caught 
fire at the lightning play of his eyes. 

The gendarmes listened with increasing atten- 
tion and expressive glances at one another, one of 
them nearly plucking his moustache out by the 
roots with the fierceness of his twirling. What ! 
This man was talking politics, even had the auda- 
city to laud the Republic — here, in the heart of 
the Empire ! 

In another minute things would have come to 
a crisis, when suddenly the parrot came out with 
his “ Nasty fellow ! Nasty fellow ! ” again. 

There was a great guffaw of laughter ; the 
“Monster Ox,” as Madame Pimento designated him 


THE DINNER-PARTY 


145 


simply, had to sit down, and for some time after- 
wards threatened to choke with rage, but ended 
by devoting himself to pouring vast quantities of 
wine down his throat. 

The conversation turned upon the giantess, and 
they disputed about her height and weight ; some 
of them declaring that they had seen others who 
weighed a great deal more. 

Mademoiselle Cordula sighed. Ah, how gladly 
would she not have parted with a hundredweight ! 
Both the proprietress of the Tombola and of the 
Admiral boasted that they, too, might have ex- 
hibited themselves as giantesses had they wished 
to ; the Captain retorting with great difficulty that 
he would not have given five centimes to see them. 
Madame Pimento was complimented, too, on her 
dimension. The “ International Shooting Gallery ” 
laughed consumedly at some of the comments 
made at their end of the table, till the ladies, 
gasping for breath, declared they could laugh no 
more. 

What was Jim up to } He had slowly left his 
seat, and now his little ancient face appeared be- 
side the big round head of the Admiral. He had 
not yet had the pleasure of greeting his Excel- 
lency, and with infinite decorum he held out his 
hairy hand. But when he came to feel the tiny 

K 


146 


LOV 


withered hand in his own abnormally long fingers, 
he started ; stay — he surely had a child to deal 
with here. He accordingly began to gently stroke 
and pat the little creature, as he was in the habit 
of doing to children; he, the three-year- old monkey, 
fondling the man of forty, even going so far as to 
touch his face. 

This, however, was rather too much for his 
Worship, who had taken it good-naturedly enough 
till now. Another scene was impending when, 
with a piercing scream. Miss Cordula sprang to 
her, feet dragging a good piece of the tablecloth 
with her, so that the dishes rolled and clashed 
together. 

What was the matter ? Had the monkey 
attacked her — was some animal loose under the 
table ? 

With a gesture of horror she pushed away the 
case on which she had been seated, quite regard- 
less, in her terror, of the fate of the Admiral, 
whose chair beginning to sway, the little gentle- 
man must inevitably have had a very considerable 
fall, for one of his size, had not Jim caught him 
in his long arms. 

“ Ah-ha ! the fowls ! the fowls ! ” Giacometta 
was the first to discover it, and nearly expired 
with laughter. Through the wooden bars of the 


THE DINNER-PARTY 


W 


case on which the young giantess had been 
sitting, they now saw the curved beaks pick- 
ing about, and the birds began to cackle loudly. 
Nobody could blame the giantess for her alarm. 
For some time she had noticed a suspicious move- 
ment under the seat, when all at once the sharp 
beaks had pecked at her legs. 

Who in her place would have sat still ? The 
ladies shrieked at the bare thought of such a 
surprise ; no, really, somebody must search 
under the table thoroughly. In a menagerie all 
sorts and conditions of animals might be creeping 
about that were not shown for money. 

Everybody wanted to look at the fowls, there 
was a general rising and mixing of the company. 
The ladies refused to sit down till every seat 
had been overturned. Professor Blaginsky was 
accused of having spirited in the case and the 
birds. Oh yes, of course it was he ; he would 
bewitch them all presently. The Professor re- 
ceived the accusation with a conscious smirk. 

At that moment, several baskets were dragged 
in from which peeped silvery champagne corks. 

“ From whom ? ” “ Who had sent for that ? ” 
The Directress flared up angrily. “ The Captain ! 
Long live the Captain ! ” shouted the Shooting 
Gallery. The Norwegian had sworn throughout 


LOU 


14S 

the evening that he would drown the whole 
menagerie in champagne — beasts and all. “ Well, 
I can’t help it,” said Madame Pimento with 
feigned reluctance : she loved champagne as 
her life. 

The strong wine loosened their tongues — some 
of them very soon lost their heads altogether. 
Framilli’s face grew darker by degrees ; they 
should have kept that devil’s drink out of the 
menagerie, he observed on occasion. 

He kept a sharp watch around him, as if he 
feared some disaster. The attention of the com- 
pany was directed towards the animals now ; 
he did not like it. Here and there they were 
beginning to tease them. 

The owner of the Monster Ox, who had 
gathered a laughing, sarcastically applauding 
audience round him to listen to his braggart 
eloquence, loudly proclaimed the whole lion- 
taming business to be humbug, and offered 
without further ado to enter any one of the cages. 
“ These great cats were as mild as lambs.” 

“ I can assure you, gentlemen, there^s more 
spirit in my ox than in the whole pack of these 
animals put together.” He rose, staggered up 
to one of the cages, and was proceeding to tickle 
a tiger’s paw which lay against the bars. 


THE DINNER-PARTY 


149 


He was arrested by a voice which rang out 
clear and sharp as metal. It was Farmilli, who 
had risen to his feet, his eyes flashing, and who 
commanded the man to leave the beasts alone, 
instantly. 

There followed a storm of applause. How 
splendid the lion-tamer looked ! how strong and 
imposing in the midst of the swaying stammering 
crowd ! firm and defiant as a lighthouse sending 
its piercing beams across a chaos of raging 
waters. 

A performance ! They must have a per- 
formance. They would see and admire Farmilli 
in his cage. The wild beast in them was 
aroused ; they clamoured to see something pro- 
digious — an act of daring, some unheard-of deed 
of wildness which should shake even their 
hardened nerves. 

The lion-tamer only answered with a half- 
contemptuous shrug of his broad shoulders. At 
last he interrupted them, saying in his sonorous 
voice : “ Much better let the animals sleep in 
peace, gentlemen ! Why remind them oftener 
than necessary that they are wretched captives ? ” 

How affecting it was 1 Positively that voice 
would be capable of sinking down and grasping 
the very heart in your bosom. 


LOU 


150 

The request was instantly withdrawn. As 
nothing could be got out of the beasts, they 
turned their attention more and more to Lou’s 
dog. They overwhelmed him with caresses ; 
teased him, that they might enjoy the anger of 
such a magnificent creature ; they even gave him 
champagne to drink. 

Stories were told of the courage of such dogs ; 
assuredly they would engage in combat with 
a wild beast. “That would be delightful to 
witness,” said one of the ladies, tapping her 
champagne glass against the edge of her little 
teeth. 

They must be noisy in their cups, so a toast 
was proposed ; but to whom ? Why, the grand 
old Cape lion. “Long live his Majesty King 
Essed ! Hip-hip, hurrah ! ” they roared. One 
quick glance flashed from Essed’s tragically 
grave eyes ; then, as if in contempt, he buried his 
head still deeper in his huge mane. 

And while they were hurrahing it happened. 
At the back of one of the cages where a lion lay 
stretched out fast asleep, the tip of his red 
tongue showing between his teeth, a little door 
opened. 

It was a young Barbary lion, a splendid 
specimen, which had been kept apart from the 


THE DINNER-PARTY 


iSi 

rest because it was to be sold to a dealer in 
Amsterdam for four thousand francs. He was 
past the age for taming, but would hurt nobody, 
the keepers said. 

For a second or two the door remained open. 
Then something appeared, and with one bound 
stood inside the cage. The door closed instantly 
behind it. 

The dog ! Zeppa ! The hound ! 

Who had done that } Thunder and devils ! 
who had dared ? 

Lou sat glaring as if turned to stone. But 
Farmilli started to his feet. “ What’s this ? ” he 
thundered, his eyes blazing with anger. 

“ Oh, they’ll get on all right together,’ 
somebody said. 

Every one rose and pressed forward, every eye 
fixed in bloodthirsty desire upon the cage. 

Zeppa stood in it, sweeping his great tail to 
and fro, his eyes fixed immovably on the still 
sleeping lion. 

It grew still all about — you could hear the 
dog’s hurried, excited breathing. 

The lion stretched, drew up his legs, and 
opened his mighty jaws in a paroxysm of 
yawning. 

“ Grand ! ” was the ecstatic cry from all sides. 


152 


LOU 


Farmilli stood in front of the cage with a 
crowbar in his hand ; not a muscle moved in his 
set face. 

Something must happen now ! Here was 
their performance after all ! What would the lion 
do } — what the dog } 

The lion raised his head and shoulders, and 
drew his forepaws in ; then with a loud rustle 
shook his young mane. At that moment he first 
became aware of the intruder, but did not deem 
him worthy of more than a passing glance of 
indifference. He fell to licking one paw with 
his flexible tongue. 

“ Didn’t I tell you so 1 They haven’t that 
much spirit, these beasts, ” snarled the Monster 
Ox loud enough for the Pimentos to hear. 

Zeppa seemed to want to provoke the lion ; 
with his forepaws stretched out stiffly and his 
back bent he stood there as if making ready for 
a spring, muffled barks proceeding from his half- 
opened mouth. His rapid breathing was still 
audible through the silence. 

Suddenly the door opened for the second time^ 
or rather was wrenched open with a jerk that 
made the iron bolts jar and rattle, and another 
form leaped into the cage. 

A man ! Farmilli } No, he still stood in 


THE DINNER-PARTY 


153 


front of the cage inside the tent. No white 
man, but a black — Lou himself! 

Some one clapped, the others followed suit. 
Farmilli’s voice thundered in between: “ Back I 
Out of that cage this moment I Back, I say 1 
devil take you 1 ” 

Signor Pimento rushed forward in fury ; why, 
the fellow had an axe in his hand — he was going 
to kill that lion I 

Lou stood there straight and rigid, lightning 
flashing from his eyes. His teeth showed wide 
and gleaming in a grim and horrible smile — the 
only sign of life in his face. Not a muscle 
quivered in the whole form, only in his hand he 
slowly swung Aukadauba’s battle-axe. 

Ah ! he would not leave his Zeppa in the lurch. 
He knows right well that yonder beast will suffer 
no black man to approach it ; but his Zeppa, 
his friend, he cannot stand by and see him 
sacrificed. 

A scream of horror broke from some woman’s 
lips ; then silence, breathless expectation, in the 
crowd. 

Farmilli rushed out. 

The whole thing happened in five, six, seven 
seconds ; they staring intently at the cage never 
knew how it was. 


54 


LOU 


The lion shot up, opened his jaws, and showed 
his teeth menacingly back at Lou’s, and the air 
vibrated with sharp rolling R-r-r-rs. 

In one instant — was it the dog who sprang first 
or was it the lion ? — in the place where Zeppa’s 
right eye had been there was a great hideous 
gaping wound, from which the blood poured 
down. It was there the lion had planted his 
blow. 

Blood ! blood ! blood in the menagerie ! 

Instantly they smelt it in the other cages— 
scented, sniffed, snarled, howled at the blood 
that flowed. 

One of the spectators gasped an “ ah ! ” of 
satisfaction. Ah ! now they had got the blood 
they were longing for, those outside the cages. 

They saw Lou seize the dog, throw him back, 
place himself in front of him, covering him with 
his own body ; they saw the gleaming axe flash 
in the Nubian’s uplifted hand. 

Then with one bound the dog hurled him 
aside, so that he staggered against the wall and 
nearly lost his balance. With a howl of rage 
Zeppa sprang upon the lion, the blood from his 
wound spurting upon the spectators. 

There followed a roar, one single roar, but it 
gave voice to a whole world of agony. The lion 


THE DINNER-PARTY 


I5S 

gave one backward bound, fell, and rolled over 
and over, beating the floor and the walls with 
paws and tail ; the cage rocked and the bars 
rattled. Then up again — up and leaping in the 
air ; he must be blinded with pain to waste his 
fury on the empty air. 

The little door opened, Farmilli’s strong arm 
came through, and with a grasp of iron dragged 
out first the dog, and then the Nubian. 

What had happened ? The lion was bleeding, 
it trickled red down his nose. He threw himself 
moaning on the floor, rolled about in agony, gave 
a few short roars and then whined piteously. 

Zeppa had bitten him in the nose. Pimento 
was beside himself ; he beat the air with his 
clenched fists and wanted to rush out. 

They held him back. Things would probably 
turn out to be less bad than he imagined. 

“ What, not bad ! bitten in the nose, and not 
bad ! Sacr-ra-m-mento di diavolo — it will die, 
it must die of it ! ” Oh ! and oh ! for the splendid 
animal, he lamented. Four thousand francs he 
was to get for it. Dio di Dio—\hQ beautiful 
creature ! 

Next he was seized with fury. He would shoot 
the dog, shoot him on the spot, as sure as he 
was alive ; by the lives of all the other animals he 


LOU 


IS5 

swore he would do it. They had hard work to 
keep him back. 

He was going to shoot Zeppa ! This alone Lou 
heard outside, and lifted his battle-axe. Who 
was going to shoot Zeppa ? He would cut that 
man down instantly. 

With the greatest difficulty they got the axe 
away from him, trying to explain to him that 
Signor Pimento was in no mood for joking. 

“ Lou not joke ; and it was evident enough 
from that wrath-distorted face that he, too, con- 
sidered it no joking matter. 

They tried to pacify him, and thought it would 
be wiser if he made off as soon as possible ; his 
Zeppa would in any case not be sure of his life if 
the lion died ; and die it inevitably must — it could 
never get over such a wound in such a place. 

Lou did not hesitate long. They could hear 
Pimento raging inside the menagerie, and the 
dying groans of the wounded lion. A few minutes 
later, after Zeppa’s ghastly wound had been 
temporarily bound up, the two had left the 
place. 

They ran along the twilit beach, faster and 
faster, though there was none to pursue them. 
The waves of the now almost full tide crept 
hungrily nearer ; behind, beside, in front of 


THE DINNER-PARTY 


157 


them, nothing but the rushing, tumbling waters — 
hunting them down, paralysing them with their 
thousand voices. The water crept stealthily over 
the smooth sand, licking round their feet, hemming 
them in and cutting them off from dry land. 

Why not escape to the higher ground } 

Because there they would fall in again with men, 
terrible men. Better far be swallowed up by the 
sea, than come again within reach of man’s 
knavish hand. Ah ! Farmilli was right, love for 
mankind was impossible, quite impossible. 

He grasped the dog tighter by the collar. 
Zeppa was panting, and he stumbled as he trotted 
along. Lou had difficulty in dragging him over 
the sands, into which their feet sank deep with 
every step. 

The dog had lost much blood ; what if he 
should die of it ? Lou’s blood boiled at the 
thought. Then he would have revenge, bloody 
revenge upon them ! Then they should see and 
know a true Aukadauba in all the savageness of 
his race. 

Not till the faint steely glitter of the great 
waste of waters had faded to palest silver and 
the first yellow streak of dawn began to show 
above the Caucal rock did they creep into 
shelter. 


158 


LOU 


It was a singular hut, composed of great slabs 
of stone and covered with a thick growth of 
blackberry — a Druid grave. But quite early in 
the morning people were there again to drive 
them out ; only harmless tourists, it is true, 
fussing about the place and measuring the stones ; 
but, nevertheless, people. 

Lou and Zeppa fled. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


FOR TWO FRANCS. 

Zeppa’s wound was very slow to heal, one eye 
was quite gone. The necessary attentions to the 
poor animal consumed all the money Lou had. 
And after that } 

Beg ? Beg from people ? Never, never 
again ! To this day he was ashamed of ever 
having done so. Better starve — yes, starve out- 
right — than ask alms of these terrible people ! 
Lou had grown too proud, and Zeppa also would 
disdain to ask their charity, he thought. 

The old friendship between the two was 
entirely restored, born anew and purified by the 
dangers they had gone through together. Lou 
had now no cause to be ashamed of meeting the 
dog’s eye ; the fidelity and love which beamed 
from the one eye still remaining to the half-blind 
creature was deeper and more touching than ever 
before. 


16 o 


LOU 


And they did starve — supporting their 
wretched lives on what the open fields afforded 
them, or from the chance gleanings of the streets. 

Misery and the search after a mouthful of 
food led them far and wide through the land. But 
the cold and horrors of winter brought down 
Lou’s proud spirit. He pondered deeply over 
ways and means for escaping out of the claws of 
starvation, but they all led back to or near to 
human habitations. 

At length despair laid such hold upon him 
that even this fear began to fade. He could not 
bear to see the maimed animal suffer any longer ; 
it broke his heart, something must be done. 

At the gate of a magnificent country seat in 
Blaixois the following scene took place. One 
summer’s afternoon the proprietor was strolling 
through the green shade of the park with his two 
children, when with a cry of terror they pressed 
closer to their father’s side. 

“ Papa, two wild beasts ! ” cried the girl, 
pointing to the gate through which you could see 
the sunny landscape beyond. 

Pressed between the bars of the gateway 
appeared two heads — fantastic, savage, difficult to 
distinguish in the shade cast by the overhanging 
quivering leaves. 


FOR TWO FRANCS i6i 

It might be two animals, or one of them was 
possibly a human being. The eyes — only three 
were visible — glared fixedly into the garden, no 
white showing round the bluish-brown irises. 

Gradually the gentleman made out one of the 
heads to be that of a man. The skin had a 
singular hue, dyed by sun and weather to a 
dirty reddish-brown. The tangled woolly hair, 
pressed by the bars close against the hollow 
cheeks, hung down behind like an animal’s mane. 
The protruding jaw, with its large, sharp, fang-like 
teeth, had a horrid gnashing movement. 

Beside this head rose the snorting, snuffling 
muzzle of a hound, whose dun-coloured coat was 
rough and shabby ; only the sharply cut nose was 
black and glossy, as if it had been newly polished. 
One side of the head appeared to be made up of 
all sorts of shreds and patches, and in place of the 
eye there was a dark, staring, contracted scar. 

A hard gnarled hand at the end of an im- 
measurably long arm pushed itself through the 
gate. The dog, as if speaking for the owner of 
the hand, gave an imploring, almost cat-like 
whine. 

Then a piteous voice, in which many of the 
tones were wholly missing like the dumb notes of 
an old piano, cried “ Moussou ! Moussou ! Kind 

L 


162 


LOU 


Moussou, buy nigger! Nigger very cheap — 
called Lou — Lou Paris ! Lou had Moussou — 
Moussou dead ! ” 

It was a strange litany. The gentleman did 
not understand, and came nearer to the gate with 
the children. 

They hung back. “ They bite, papa — they will 
bite ! ” cried the little boy. 

“ Moussou ! Zeppa hungry — Lou hungry. Not 
beg ! Moussou buy Lou ! ” And the Nubian 
slapped his bare breast, on which the bones 
stood out sharply. “ Lou only cost twenty 
francs ! 

A flame shot through Lou’s eyes. Was he 
thinking of the heap of money his dead master 
had given for him that day in Cairo } And now he 
was offering himself for sale for a paltry twenty 
francs ! Well, want had brought him low. 

The gentleman shook his head, he really did 
not understand. 

Lou would not give it up ; ever more urgently 
came his imploring voice, “ Ten francs, Moussou ! 
Lou very cheap — Lou and Zeppa — all for ten 
little francs ! Lou worth five francs — real nigger 
— not painted. Kind Moussou — Moussou — give 
two francs — have Lou and Zeppa ! ” 

The gentleman took a piece of money from his 


FOR TWO FRANCS 


163 

purse and put it into the beggar’s claw-like hand 
with a sign that tney were to move off. 

What, he was not going to take it} Actually 
the fellow was shaking his head and holding out 
the money again through the gate. 

“ Lou not beg,” he stammered. 

“ Then what do you want } ” returned the 
gentleman harshly. “ Be off with you ! ” 

Lou still held the money in his outstretched 
hand, it glittered in the sunshine ; how willingly 
he would have kept it; but “ Lou not beg ! ” 

A low whine came from the dog’s drooping 
mouth. It sounded like an entreaty. The 
Nubian withdrew his hand on the spot ; with a. 
haste which contrasted strangely with his former 
reluctance he put the money in his pocket. 

The dog’s beseeching whimper had reminded 
him of the “ big dishes ” ; perhaps, too, of the crust 
of dry bread he had been wont to order for 
himself : the temptation was too strong. 

Just this once he would take the money for 
the sake of the “ big dishes.” 

They went on their way, and were soon lost to 
sight in a cloud of dust. The dog had a 
laboured trot, and Lou dragged wearily at his side, 
limping painfully with one leg, while the dust rose 
up above their heads and journeyed with them. 


CHAPTER XIV. 
zeppa’s hunger. 

The great fountains at St. Cloud were playing 
once more, and again a cloud of golden dust rolled 
and billowed above the noisy swarming crowd. 

At one spot there was a block, where curiosity 
had packed the crowd more closely together. It 
was in front of a butcher’s stall with great caldrons, 
from whence issued a grey, greasy smelling steam. 
The butcher, a colossal fellow with a bloated red 
face, held a black man fast by his tattered shirt- 
collar. 

Was that Lou ? How could he, in the one year 
that had passed since he left the menagerie, have 
aged so fearfully ^ 

His features were sunken and relaxed, unutter- 
able weariness, want, and misery glared from his 
fever-stricken eyes. His skin was dull with 
changing tints that ranged from muddy brown to 
yellowish grey. His hair was grey, blanched by 


ZEPPA^S HUNGER 


65 


misery and the perpetual dust of the high 
roads. 

There, too, was the dog. With the infuriated 
eagerness of a wild beast he was devouring a large 
juicy piece of meat, keeping up a low growl while 
he tore and gulped, and with wicked side-glances 
defending his possession of the toothsome morsel 
against the pushing crowd. 

The hound was no less changed than Lou. 
The handsome russet coat, which had faded to a 
dingy clay-colour, in which the white markings on 
his chest were no longer distinguishable, flapped 
round his skeleton frame like a mantle that had 
grown too wide. 

“ ril teach you to steal meat, my friend 
blustered the butcher in unsteady accents. I’ll 
teach you the law on the subject of a piece of 
meat, mon vieiix ! What do you say.? Hungry? 
Well, if he Is, he needn’t grab the best and 
tenderest joint in the whole market ! ” 

It was no use for Lou to speak, they understood 
but few of the words — it sounded scarcely human. 

“ Zeppa hungry, very hungry. Zeppa die 
— Lou no money — Lou not let Zeppa die.” A 
policeman broke in with a great air of authority, 
and was for taking Lou off at once. 

He struggled, he would not go without the 


i66 


LOU 


dog. “Zeppa come too — Zeppa too — Lou not 
without Zeppa ! ” 

The poor creature was so weak, they soon 
overpowered him. 

Zeppa! Zeppa!” he cried in an agony of terror. 

“ Zeppa ! Zeppa ! ” he implored in faint and 
trembling tones. 

The dog did not stir. The wolfish eagerness 
with which he was appeasing the gnawing pangs 
of a long fast had made him deaf to everything 
else. 

“ Zeppa come ! Zeppa be good ! ” Lou be- 
sought him distractedly. 

The dog shot a quick side-glance in the 
direction of the speaker, and went on gnawing and 
tearing at his booty. 

“ Zeppa-a ! ” Lou’s voice was sharp and 
menacing, his eyes blazed. 

At this moment hunger had roused so much of 
the beast in the dog that over his food he had 
forgotten every law of friendship and loyalty. 

Lou managed to free himself from his captors, 
and with a howl of despair tried to throw him- 
self upon the dog. They held him back. 

One last look full of a sudden overwhelming 
horror, and he allowed himself to be led away 
unresisting, his head sunk lifeless on his breast. 


ZEPPA^S HUNGER 167 

“ Zeppa, Zeppa,” came from time to time in a 
heart rending whisper over his lips. 

At the police-station he was regarded as mad ; 
cowering in a corner, trembling in every limb, 
with vacant eyes, grasping into the empty air. 
At short intervals he would call on Zeppa in every 
possible tone of voice, and all through the night 
they heard him calling and moaning. 

It was too hard, too hard. For a piece of 
meat — a miserable piece of meat — the dog had 
deserted him ! 

In his torment and rage he ran his head against 
the wall as if to crush the thoughts that tortured 
him. 

Ah-ha, it was there again, the great lash of 
Cairo ! whistling and rushing round his head ; and 
poor despairing Lou lost all hold upon the 
wretched fragments of life left him. 


CHAPTER XV. 


A GLEAM OF SUNSHINE. 

But he was not to be utterly laid low. Into 
this poor, hunted, mutilated life there was to fall 
one ray of happiness — one of those last strong 
dazzling efforts of the sun, before the great 
darkness of the storm swallows it up 

Lou had no news of Zeppa. Not that he would 
have despaired of finding the dog, even in the vast 
labyrinth of Paris, had he chosen to search for 
him. But he did not choose, he was not going 
to run the risk of being driven out again from the 
dog’s affection by a rival in the shape of a piece 
of meat. 

Zeppa had insulted him, had cut him to the 
heart. 

It was not true what Farmilli had said, that 
animals were better worth loving than people. 
Who was worth loving ? Whom could one trust 
in all the wide world > To whom be faithful ? 
who was good, who was capable of self-sacrifice. 


A GLEAM OF SUNSHINE 


69 


An immense blank settled down upon him ; the 
laconic rzen, which had so often served as an 
answer for want of a larger stock of words, now 
assumed a sharper emphasis, a deeper meaning. 

Rien / and the questioner almost fell back at 
the word ; it was like the stroke of an axe 
cutting off all further possibility of con- 
versation. 

Lou let himself be driven along by the chances 
of the day, turning in here, there, anywhere. 
He took up any kind of employment that came 
in his way, to drop it again as quickly. For 
whose sake should he starve ? But, on the other 
hand, for whom should he take the trouble of 
earning money ? 

To-day he was wearing a fantastic livery, and 
on his head a new fez. He stood at the corner 
of the Rue Royale and the Place de la Concorde, 
armed with a bundle of advertisements which he 
was distributing in the interests of a restaurant 
tottering on the brink of bankruptcy. 

It was a bright frosty day in January, at the 
hour when the carriages return from the Bois de 
Boulogne, glittering and flashing in the pale 
violet light of evening, with their spirited horses 
and the fair faces of the occupants rosy tinted by 
the fresh breeze of the forest. 


170 


LOV 


A row of carriages had come to a standstill. 
Just in front of Lou stood an elegant victoria, in 
which sat a lady. Lou glanced indifferently at 
the carriage, and then — was it fright ^ was it 
surprise.? — stiffened where he stood, his outstretched 
hand still holding the papers. Was it a vision 
suddenly appearing to him ? 

From the midst of the costly furs and the 
glittering cloud of daintiness with which the lady 
was surrounded shimmered something red. Not 
the flaring red for which a certain long lost Lili 
had been so famous ; it was a marvellous red gold, 
and yet, it was Lili — Lili herself! 

With wide-open vacant eyes Lou stared at the 
apparition. At that moment the lady raised her 
head with its tiny hat. The faintest shadow of a 
smile played over the white, very white, face 
veiled in airily transparent gauze ; the little teeth 
flashed out between the bright red lips. 

“ Lou ! ” It was like the light stroke of a bell. 

Ah I It was she 1 it was she ! 

Lou sprang at the carriage and fell upon the 
little hand, which was scarcely visible amongst the 
ruches and lace inside the fur sleeves, and half 
hidden by a glittering jewelled bracelet which 
slipped down over it. 

He covered the delicately perfum.ed glove with 


A GLEAM- OF SUNSHINE 


171 

kisses ! He had taken leave of his senses ! 
Unintelligible, strange-sounding words came in 
whispers from his lips, as if he had caught some- 
thing of lost Zeppa’s joyful whimpering. 

In another moment he was seated in the 
carriage, opposite to her ; the warm clinging fur 
rug spread over both. What a delicious perfume 
streamed from it, and what a kindly light beamed 
from her blue eyes ! 

Lou was intoxicated — bewildered — beside him- 
self ! He trembled in every limb, everything swam 
and danced before his eyes ; never had his teeth 
gleamed so white. 

Her voice broke the spell at last. “ But, Lou, 
do throw away those stupid papers ! ” 

He obeyed mechanically. They were opposite 
the Madeleine, at the entrance to the Boulevard 
of the same name. He threw the whole packet of 
papers into the air — threw them high with a 
shrill “ A-ih,” which escaped him in the joy of 
the moment. 

It was as if he had let loose a flock of pigeons. 
The papers fluttered off across the broad pavement, 
over the heads of the strolling, jostling crowd, 
above the carriages and omnibuses, against the 
stern majestic colonnade of the Madeleine — the 
whole Place was dappled with them ; some of 


172 


LOU 


them, caught by the light breeze, whirled high 
out of the damp and gloomy shadow of the 
houses into the region of the setting sun, where 
they gleamed in crimson glory. 

A few of the papers fell back into the victoria. 
Lili snatched at them, full of childish glee, the 
butterfly suddenly peeping out from the distin- 
guished, well-dressed lady. And she laughed so 
heartily, so refreshingly ! The old bell-like 
laughter which had rung so loudly years before in 
the high-walled courtyard. And here was that 
same laughter rousing merry echoes among the 
columns of the great cathedral. 

There was a general excitement. Boys ran 
shouting after the papers, heads crowded to the 
plate-glass windows of the cafi in the Place, 
laughing and nodding ; some of the pale-gloved 
hands clapped applause. Even the statuesque 
repose of the faces of the great ladies in their 
carriages was broken by an amused smile. 

Who did not know Mira — “ the golden Mira 
— the diva of the Renaissance, the spoilt darling 
of the Boulevard Journale — the merriest, pertest, 
most audacious singing-bird in all Paris } Who 
did not recognise that laugh, those gloom- 
dispelling ripples } Every note was pure gold 
which found a jingling echo every night at the 


A GLEAM OF SUNSHINE 


173 


ticket-office of the Renaissance. And here she 
was casting this gold wantonly into the air, in 
the public street, where every one could scramble 
for it 

What a heavenly gratis performance! Oh, 
spendthrift that she was ! 

She went on wasting the treasures of her 
laughter long after they had passed the Madeleine 
and were bowling along the Boulevard. And all 
this for astonished Lou only, for the gay notes 
were drowned now by the rattle of the carriages 
and the many noises of the street. All for Lou, 
heaping him with riches at one stroke. She 
took up one of the papers and read: “‘Where 
to get the best dinner in Paris ? ’ Well, Lou, do 
you know ? Where is the Eldorado of all the 
gourmets of Paris ! Where is it, Lou ? You 
don’t know yourself! You are just the same 
dear old stupid you used to be, aren’t you, Lou 
I’ll tell you; it is. Rue Picardette, No. 323, the 
rendezvous of the nations — do you hear > 

Dejeuner for one franc sixty-five centimes. 
Dinner at two francs fifty — three francs — three 
francs fifty, ha I ha I ha I Choice wines, ha ! 
ha! ha!” 

She let the advertisement fly away. 

“ That isn’t true what your paper says, Lou. 


174 


LOU 


You will have to get others printed. Where does 
one get the best dinner 'i Why, at Mademoiselle 
Mira’s, Lou — first soubrette of the Grand Renais- 
sance Theatre — living at No. 17 Rue de Provence. 
Well, you shall judge for yourself if her cooking 
does not beat the Eldorado of the gourmets of 
Paris: dinner at 3 francs — 3.50 — 4 francs — 
choice wines, ha ! ha ! ha ! ” 

“Jaques, drive through the great Boulevards, 
do you hear ? ” she cried at the broad stolid back 
of the coachman, rising enormously high above 
Lou’s head. 

A little while later the absinthes and liqueurs 
in the cafes of the great Boulevards were telling 
one another the astounding news that “ the golden 
Mira ’’had been seen driving through the Boule- 
vard, as proud and audacious as you please, with 
a regular low nigger at her side. 

“ Her brother, perhaps ? ” suggested a pert 
maraschino. 

“ A freak of that sort is just like her,” observed 
a poisonous green absinthe. “ Count Cabrera 
will congratulate himself on such a brother-in- 
law.” 

But a glowing manilla was extremely indignant 
that they should credit Count Cabrera with any 
serious intentions towards this Mira. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

WITH “GOLDEN MIRA.” 

An hour later Lou was seated at table with 
“golden Mira,” in No. 17 Rue de Provence. 
He was to give his opinion as to whether you did 
not dine better there than at the much lauded 
“ Rendezvous of the Nations.” 

“ But you are not eating anything, dearest Lou. 
It is only an actor’s dinner, it is true ; we players 
may only pick at delicate trifles like birds, if we 
are to sing like birds in the evening. Some other 
time you shall be introduced to my cuisine in its 
full glory ; ” and she put a tempting morsel on his 
plate. 

How could Lou eat } Every trace of hunger 
had been effaced by the surprise which still held 
him spell-bound. He dared not touch the massive 
glittering silver forks, nor cut through to the 
delicate flowery arabesques of the fine smooth 
plates. 


176 


LOU 


Everything upon the table gleamed and glistened 
and sparkled, even the viands took on something 
of this festive air ; and the steam from the dishes 
shone golden in the warm pleasant light shed by 
the great hanging lamp. 

The rest of the room beyond the range of this 
light was sunk in dusky gloom. Nothing was 
visible of the ceiling but the sharp white edges of 
the mouldings, and the shadowy figures on the 
dark tapestry seemed to gaze at them out of the 
dim distance. Every sound occasioned by the 
changing of the dishes, every spoken word, sounded 
curiously hushed and softened by that dimness. 
It was charmingly cosy. 

The half-ghostly nature of the attendance some- 
what confused Lou, however. Before he was aware 
of it, a dish would appear at his elbow, starting out 
of the darkness into the circle of friendly light. 
The next moment, where his companion sat 
opposite to him, he would perceive the apparition 
of a seemingly aristocratic gentleman glide noise- 
lessly about, carrying that same dish, his white 
cravat and the white of his eyes gleaming across 
the table. Occasionally this gentleman would 
bend forward into the region of the light, revealing 
a smooth shaven, distinguished diplomatic face 
which greatly disconcerted Lou. He felt he ought 


WITH ••GOLDEN MIRA** 


177 


to get up and bow to this nobleman, humbly 
asking his permission to be allowed to stay where 
he was. 

Lou was to give an account of himself. Mira 
overwhelmed him with a flood of questions — what 
had he done ? how had he fared ? where had he 
been all this time. “ Stay, it must be a long time 
since ” 

She paused, lost in recollections ; but they 
evidently made her uncomfortable. 

“ Oh, you really must eat something, Lou. 
Claude, hand the gentleman something else.” 

The ghostly dish reappeared at his side. He 
did not find much to answer. 

Had he had a bad time, then } 

“ Yes,” he nodded, but almost imperceptibly. 

“ How so ? Why don’t you tell me all about it, 
Lou.?” 

He shrugged his shoulders, and nearly choked 
over a large mouthful which presented difficulties 
in the way of chewing. 

She laughed. “ Well, you shall have it better 
now. You will stay with me, won’t you, Lou ? ” 

He nodded assent, but with a timid questioning 
side-glance at the waiting shadow in the white 
cravat, to see what he was likely to think of the 
arrangement. 

M 


178 


LOU 


The bell rang outside. A waiting-maid, as 
gaily and coquettishly attired as a fashion-plate 
for a Carnival ball, put her head with its little 
cap and bright fluttering ribbons round the 
door. 

“Monsieur de Fronsacques,” she chirped. 

‘‘ I am engaged, Mariette — do you hear ! ” cried 
Mira. 

“ Monsieur de Fronsacques, Madame,” repeated 
Mariette in a louder tone — half surprised, half 
urgent. 

“ I — am — engaged — I tell you ! ” and with 
each word Mira rapped the table with the 
handle of her fork, which she held upright like a 
sceptre. 

The maid flashed round upon her heel, and 
shut the door behind her with a pretty audible 
bang. 

“ I suppose one may sometimes be alone,” said 
Mira, shaking her golden head. “We have so 
much to tell one another, haven’t we, Lou } 
Claude, tell Jacques not to bring the carriage till 
seven o’clock. 

Lou could not hear whether the mysterious 
Monsieur Claude went or not. 

“ Lou, do you remember our going to see the 
marionettes at the Champs Elysees, and how we 


WITH •‘GOLDEN MIRA 


179 


laughed ? We will go again some day, and have 
another good laugh, shall we ? ” 

Lou made a doubtful face. 

“ Why, Lou, you surely have not forgotten how 
to laugh } I shall have to teach you again. And 
your French does not seem to be particularly 
brilliant. Shall we begin our lessons again, eh.^” 

There was another ring. The ribbons flut- 
tered at the door again. “ Madame, le Comte 
Cabrera ! ” 

“ I am engaged ! I told you so before. Can’t 
you hear what I say, Mariette ? It’s a regular 
plot against me to-day ! ” She was seriously put 
out. 

Mariette did not move ; Mira angrily clapped 
down the glass she had raised to her lips, at 
which the door shut with a louder bang than 
before. 

“ Do you remember what trouble we had with 
that dog — with Zeppa ? I wonder what has 
become of him ? ” 

Lou’s face clouded. “Zeppa nen*' he mur- 
mured dejectedly. “ Zeppa not good.” And he 
hacked nervously at the piece of chicken on his 
plate. 

“ Ah ! ” said Mira, “ Zeppa not good } Did I 
not always say that dog was a wretch ? ” 


xSo 


LOU 


Lou sighed heavily, and began attacking the 
bird furiously with his teeth. 

“ Madame, le Baron Wisby!” lisped the fashion- 
plate once more. 

“ I tell you ! — how often must I repeat it } 
Who did you say — Baron Wisby ? ” Mira smiled 
a little indulgent smile*. “ Ah! ce bon petit Wisby ; 
well, I don’t mind, ask him in, Mariette.” 

This time the door closed noiselessly. There 
entered a very gaily dressed little gentleman, with 
a charming and carefully groomed fair head — it 
might have been that of a doll. He advanced 
with a series of dancing bows, and Mira offered 
him her alabaster hand glittering with jewels. 
She held it very high with the back upwards, as 
a sign apparently that it was to be kissed. He 
grasped it timidly with his delicately gloved 
fingers, but scarcely a hair of the cherished 
blond moustache touched the back of the little 
outstretched hand. When he raised his round 
infantile face it was suffused with blushes. 

Mira nodded kindly at him to encourage him, 
and proceeded to introduce the gentlemen with 
a grave and ceremonious air. “ Monsieur le 
Baron Wisby — Monsieur — Monsieur Lou of 
Cairo.” 

Wisby bowed in the most correct style ; Lou 


WITH GOLDEN MIRA^^ i8i 

sat stiff and straight, grinning at Mira and the 
new-comer with all his teeth. Mira tittered, and 
Wisby’s watery blue eyes stared at the Nubian as 
if he had been some strange monster. 

“ The gentlemen have never met before } 
inquired the mischievous diva, 

Wisby recollected — was it not the late Marquis 
de Breteuille’s black man ? 

Mira offered the Baron a seat beside her. She 
put various questions to him. How was he } 
What was the news ? Was it not a long time 
since he had seen this or that person } Why had 
he not been at the Renaissance last night ? To 
all of which Wisby answered briefly with the 
bashful air of a fourteen-year-old girl from the 
provinces. 

The conversation would not have been very 
lively but for Mira’s incessant flow of chatter. 
Now and then she would come out with a peal 
of laughter. Wisby joined in heartily and un- 
affectedly, and Lou did his best to do the same. 
What a time it was since he had laughed ! 
Mira would really have to teach it him again. 

She signed to Lou to come closer to her other 
side ; she then seized a plate of sweets and began 
dividing them between her two neighbours, each 
a little plateful. As neither of them seemed 


82 


LOU 


inclined to begin, she took upon herself to assist 

them. With a comical air of importance, as if 

preparing for some laborious undertaking, she 

threw back the costly lace sleeve far up the blue- 

veined whiteness of her arm. Then before either 

of them had time to prevent her, each had a piece 

of sweet in his mouth. 

>■ 

Wisby turned painfully red, but he munched it 
without a word. 

Will you make haste and swallow it?” she 
ordered the Nubian. And instantly another piece 
for both. 

“ Quick ! But you must take a good bite ; ” 
and taking a piece herself, she bit into it boldly 
— you could hear her crunching it between her 
little teeth. 

A third piece ; Wisby shielded himself behind 
his straw-coloured gloves, she slapped them down 
and he was obliged to give in. 

I am forced to play the mamma with you, 
and you’ll have to do as I bid you — do you hear? 
Mouths open, I say ! Lou, unclose your teeth ! ” 
she commanded. 

She proceeded to stuff piece after piece into 
their mouths and her own, too — quicker and 
quicker, the two men swallowing and choking. 

Mariette rushed in once more. 


WITH “ GOLDEN MIRA ” 183 

** Madame, they would take no refusal, and they 
have remained in the salon. I could not help it. 
They said that if Madame received little Wisby, 
— pardon, le Baron Wisby — they need not be 
sent away. Here they are.” 

The tall and powerful form of “ le beau Fron- 
sacques ” appeared in the doorway, and simply 
lifted the excitedly gesticulating figure to one side ; 
Cabrera followed, his large single eye-glass flash- 
ing through the gloom. 

“ Pray forgive us for forcing our way in after 
all,” said Fronsacques, twirling his handsome 
moustache still further out from his insipid, 
fashionable face. 

Cabrera said nothing, but a lightning flash 
seemed to emanate from his eye-glass. 

B’jour, gentlemen,” cried Mira — it was like 
the first few notes of a song. “ Excuse me, but 
I had a real reason for refusing you ” — she 
crunched the sugar she had in her mouth — “ an 
old friend whom I came upon unexpectedly. We 
had so much to talk about. Ah, pardon ! I 
don’t know if the gentlemen are acquainted.” 

She repeated the introduction gravely enough 
except for the fine malicious smile that played 
round her brilliant lips. “ Monsieur Lou of Cairo 
—Count Cabrera — Monsieur de Fronsacques.” 


i84 


LOV 


Cabrera dropped his eye-glass with a twitch 
of the muscles of his face, and peered at Lou out 
of his little beady black eyes. Lou munched away 
at his sweets, staring in astonishment at the well- 
remembered parchment-coloured face of the Count; 
Fronsacques for the sake of appearances made a 
quarter of a bow. 

“ Ah, if I am not mistaken, it’s our good old 
figure-head of a Lou,” drawled Cabrera. “Well, 
how is the nigger, and what has he been up to ? ” 

A faint flush overspread Mira’s forehead — not 
her cheeks ; the hot blood could not penetrate their 
coating of paint. 

“ Count Cabrera,” she observed, very quickly 
but firmly, “ I had the pleasure of introducing to 
you my friend, an old friend of my youth. I 
have no idea to whom you are alluding. But 
the gentlemen will no doubt excuse us if we 
return to our seats. Won’t you sit down, gentle- 
men ? ” 

She took the plate, and bending over it 
seemed occupied in searching out some special 
dainty. 

“ Perhaps ces Messieurs would like some, too ? ” 
she said before looking up. 

As she raised her eyes, she surprised Cabrera 
in a quick gesture. Only this : with a careless 


WITH GOLDEN MIRA »’ 


185 

but imperious wave of the hand he had signed to 
the Nubian to bring him an easy-chair standing 
against the wall. 

Nothing more ; and Lou, good-natured Lou 
was in the act of rising to carry out the order. 

“ Sit still ! ” commanded Mira. 

But starting up herself, she fixed Cabrera with 
her blazing eyes for fully three seconds, and seizing 
an antique bronze handbell, rang it furiously like 
an alarum. 

Claude appeared instantly. 

Without turning to the servant, she ordered : 
“ Claude, offer these gentlemen chairs.” 

She said it very slowly and sternly, without 
deigning to glance at any one, gazing straight 
before her into space. 

Cabrera shrugged his square padded shoulders as 
one accustomed to that sort of thing from the diva. 
He was only rather tickled at the thought of the 
rivalry that he would no doubt have to sustain 
against this dark gentleman. 

Half an hour later, when the visitors had gone, 
she ordered a tailor to be sent for, for Lou — a 
gentleman’s tailor — one of the first. Monsieur Foote 
if possible. 

“ You must take off that gaudy rubbish at once, 
Lou — do you hear ? ” she insisted. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


“MY MOTHER HAS EATEN ALL THE DATES.” 

That same evening Lou was to hear Mira sing. 
The famous burlesque “ Fla-Fla ” still filled the 
Renaissance to the last seat, even now after it 
had been given some hundreds of times. The 
theatre had to thank Mira for its overflowing 
coffers ; she was inexhaustible in giving a fresh 
charm to every change in her many costumed 
part. 

Lou sat in the parquet beside a stout snorting 
gentleman, who prided himself on having missed 
only five out of the two hundred and sixty-six 
performances of “ Fla-Fla.” “ I can’t imagine what 
will happen when ‘^Fla-Fla” ceases to exist — there 
will be an end of me,” he said with a comical 
sigh. 

They spoke of Mira. Some enthusiasts lauded 
her to the skies. “Mira is divine! Mira is 
unique ! She is the glory of the age — the most 


“iWy MOTHER HAS EATEN ALL THE DATES'^ 187 

brilliant star that ever rose in the firmament of 
art!” 

One young man, with glassy eyes and a 
nervous, twitching of the face, offered solemnly to 
run anybody through who dared to dispute the 
axiom of golden Mira’s monopoly of fame. “ I 
would simply run him through the body,” he 
protested. 

The curtain rose ; soon after which the glory 
of the age ” appeared, welcomed by applause 
from every side. 

Alas ! she had taken him captive once more — 
once again his heart was ensnared in the bewil- 
dering meshes of her voice. He forgot everything 
— how cruelly she had often treated him — how 
she had ended by deserting him, without one 
word of regret. Listening to those tones, all his 
hatred of mankind melted away ; he might even 
put his trust again in an animal — a dog — Zeppa 
himself if he were there. Assuredly he would 
have forgiven him all at that moment. 

She was a sorceress — who could resist her ? 

Lou felt himself sinking into the old helpless 
slavery to her. He applauded with the best of 
them. The signal for clapping evidently came 
from the row of seats behind him. It was a 
deafening noise; the hands which produced it 


i88 


LOU 


must have been specially chosen for that purpose. 
It might have been a properly arranged chorus, 
one could distinguish higher and lower notes in 
it, the dominating bass being executed by an 
immense pair of hollow-sounding, swollen red 
hands. 

One was obliged to join in — it was most 
exciting. Lou clapped till his hands burned ; he 
was not going to be outdone by anybody. 

But presently, just as he raised his hands to 
clap with the rest, he stopped half-way, motionless 
with surprise. 

In the middle of her dazzling rocket-like trills 
and roulades, she suddenly broke into a song — so 
strange, so magically heart-compelling, like an echo 
from some dim enchanted world. It held the soul 
enthralled, breathless, till the slow tears welled 
up and overflowed. 

Most of them knew it. A general ah-h ! of 
satisfaction greeted the first notes, then every 
breath was hushed in listening silence. 

The words were mere folly : “ Mother has 

eaten all my dates, oh dear ! oh dear ! ” and 
so on. 

But what melodious life she infused into that 
nonsense, brimming over with contagious laughter 
sighing forth in deepest sadness ! 


•'MY MOTHER HAS EATEN ALL THE DATES 189 

The applause shook the house. They clam- 
oured for another equally well-known song. 

She conceded and began : “ Oh, what joy 

when each morning milk and butter brings for 
me ! ” etc. 

There was a perfect tumult of delight as she 
filled the house with saucy rippling music. 

Where had she learned these songs ^ 

Lou alone knew. Six years ago, on a sultry 
July evening, Lou and Lili were sitting in the 
rotunda of the Parc Monceaux. Close by the 
fountain murmured and whispered mysteriously, 
and the green phosphorescent lamps of the fire- 
flies fluttered and circled in swarms through the 
gloom of the bushes, coming sometimes in glisten- 
ing clouds till the pillars of the rotunda seemed 
frosted with pale sparks. 

It was so solitary there. The roar of the great 
eager city broke upon the strand of this idyllic 
island in the middle of the park only in faintest 
waves of sound. 

As usual, Lili had been trilling some of her Paris 
street songs. She asked Lou if they didn’t sing 
anything down there in Cairo } 

At which some fellah songs occurred to him, 
which the Cairo donkey-drivers used to sing while 
they rested at the foot of the Pyramids. She 


190 


LOU 


laughed at the queer tunes and his uncouth way 
of singing, but he had to repeat them, and she 
listened very attentively. 

She asked what the words meant. Lou trans- 
lated them laboriously word for word. Then 
she sang them after him, throwing herself into 
the spirit of the fellah songs with real enthu- 
siasm. 

In a few days they came rippling out as 
naturally as if she had heard them all her life. 

So much had befallen Lou since then that the 
songs had almost faded from his memory. And 
now that he heard them again, it was from the 
brilliantly lighted stage of a Paris theatre ! Like 
a sweet breath from his long vanished home, it 
wafted round his throbbing brow and filled his 
heart to bursting. 

He could not clap — not now ; it would have 
seemed like desecration. Silent and motionless, 
he sat there while the house rocked with the storm 
of applause. 

In the pause he caught a remark or two round 
about him. They were disputing as to the origin 
of the songs. The young man who would “ simply 
run anybody through,” insisted that Mira had 
invented them herself. “ Anyhow,” they said, 
“ she made her fortune with them.” 


*^MY MOTHER HAS EATEN ALL THE DATES'* 191 

Somebody gave the details. She had sung 
the songs for the first time two years ago in the 
Alcazar at Bordeaux. She made a sensation at 
once, though her rather thin little voice had excited 
but little remark till then. 

This, however, was something quite out of the 
common run — this must not be allowed to slip ; 
and then her magnificent red hair ! That had 
no doubt taken on a more fashionable tinge — the 
reflection of the gold which poured in torrents into 
her lap. An agent on the look-out for voices 
had instantly carried her off from Bordeaux, 
and for a whole summer she made an unheard-of 
furore at the great Alcazar in the Champs 
Elysees — and all with these songs ! She had even 
been commanded to sing them at Court, and at 
one of the great summer fetes at Compiegne they 
had overwhelmed her with marks of distinction 
and gracious approval. Finally, the manager of 
the Renaissance had succeeded in outbidding the 
tempting offers of his colleagues, and secured this 
star. Of course he had had to pay an awful price 
to get her away from the Alcazar, 

“It’s the speciality of the thing, gentlemen,” 
puffed the fat man who had witnessed nearly all 
the two hundred and sixty-six performances of 
“ Fla-Fla.” “ It all depends on the speciality I ” 


192 


LOU 


Lou had understood nothing of all this. One 
thing only he grasped : she had made her fortune 
by the fellah songs. By the help of these poor 
silly little songs she had risen to these giddy 
heights of fame. 

And Lou had taught her those songs — poor, 
insignificant, black Lou ! 

A quickening joy possessed his heart. He felt 
he might now carry something within him higher, 
prouder ; not his head — that she despised now as 
then because it was black ; but his consciousness 
of being human. Surely he might lay claim to 
that now ! 

So he had been of some use in the world after 
all ! Thus he need no longer be cast aside as a 
worthless thing, because he was black ! 


CHAPTER XVIIL 


MONSIEUR LOU OF CAIRO. 

“Why should you not be able to play the gentle- 
man, Lou ?” said Mira. ‘‘You’ve got the clothes 
for it — why shouldn’t you make as good a gentle- 
man as Cabrera or de Fronsacques ? What is it, 
after all ? Bah ! a few yards of clothes put together 
by a celebrated tailor in the latest chic — a few 
gestures — a few bows — a studied phrase or two, 
and often a good dose of stupidity, I can tell you ! 
What ? Because you are black ? That’s just a 
reason for it ! As if black people were not as 
good as white. We’ll just see about that. I’ll 
see if I don’t teach them to respect my good friend 
Lou!” 

Lou sighed. Alas I this playing the gentleman 
was a very hard matter. In the old days vanity 
had spurred him on to try and shine as a dandy 
before the staring world of Paris, now he found 
it difficult to play the part after fate had dragged 

N 


194 


LOU 


him so mercilessly through the mire. “ Lou not 
gentleman ! ” 

He certainly cut a most unfortunate figure in 
his new and fashionable clothes. He felt as if he 
were dragging a cage about with him, and his 
movements had taken on an awkwardness and 
clumsiness which must inevitably make him a 
laughing-stock. 

He could not fail to notice how they grinned 
and laughed at him, and hear their derisive 
remarks behind his back He had a real horror 
of the supercilious diplomatist’s face, of the high- 
toned, soft-footed maitre de table. The mocking 
pertness of the women servants worried him like a 
tiresome swarm of gnats, and Mariette’s exaggerated 
marks of respect drove him to desperation. 

“ Lou not gentleman, he groaned, placing the 
shining new hat on the table in front of him, and 
laboriously dragging off the light kid gloves from 
his hands — “IvOu servant — Mira kind — Mira be 
true to him — Lou be Mira’s servant.” 

“That’s what you want?” she exclaimed. 
“Well it can’t be done. I — let my old friend 
be my servant ? You don’t know Mira ! They 
ill-treated us when we were poor and common 
and red-haired ; now it is our turn to ill-treat 
them ! ” And she flourished her fan excitedly in 


MONSIEUR LOU OF CAIRO 


195 


the air. “ They will be furious, and so they shall 
be — just furious ! ” 

She vowed she would make them respect him. 

One day when they were going to drive out 
together, the servant slammed the carriage door 
in Lou’s face as he was about to follow Mira. 

“ What’s this } ” hissed Mira, her eyes flashing. 

The servant excused himself with a shrug ; he 
had not observed the “gentleman” — with a strong 
emphasis on the word. 

She ordered the man to leave her house : “ On 
the spot, this instant!” she commanded in a 
towering passion. 

The servant was to leave on his account ? Lou 
begged her not to be so angry. 

“ I will teach them to be polite to you. Be 
quiet, Lou — you know nothing about it.” 

During the drive he cowered dejectedly in a 
corner of the carriage. 

She burst out at him presently : “ My dear 
fellow, if you are going to drive with me, you 
must not make such an undertaker’s face — do you 
hear? People will think you are bored by me or 
I by you. Look cheerful this moment, now ! 
And if you can’t laugh, or won t, then at least 
show your teeth, so that you may look as if 
you were.” 


ig6 


LOV 


Lou did as he was bid. Alas ! how difficult it 
was to play the gentleman ! One must laugh 
without ever knowing what for. But he consoled 
himself with the reflection that she did not treat 
the others in any way differently. 

In one thing only did she let him have his own 
way. He refused to occupy the bedroom with the 
heavily draped four-post bedstead she had assigned 
to him. “ Why not > ” 

In her ante-room was a magnificent lion skin ; 
he would sleep on that as he used to at Moussou’s. 

“ Oh nonsense,” she said, “ that’s not at all 
the fashion.” 

But it suddenly struck her how well it would 
look to have some one — a man — one of her de- 
voted slaves, lying at her door. She had read of 
such things in novels. 

“Very well, if you like ; but you ought to know 
where the lion skin came from. Gerard the 
celebrated lion-hunter shot the animal himself. 
Count Cabrera gave it me. And very different 
people from you have slept on it before now, you 
wouldn’t believe it ! They found it very hard, but 
thought Mira harder still because she let them lie 
there and had no pity on them. None of them 
tried it twice. Well I don’t mind — felicissima 
notte / ” 


MONSIEUR LOU OF CAIRO 197 

After that the poor fellow had much to endure 
from the respect which Mira, with many an ex- 
ample, forced her people to show to Monsieur 
Lou of Cairo. He did not know where to flee 
to from their civility ; they nearly fell head over 
heels, they bowed so low to him ; in helping him 
off with his coat, they almost tore him limb from 
limb, they could not assist him quickly enough 
into the carriage, it was with difficulty that he 
kept upon his feet. 

The more he begged them to desist, the worse 
they went on, and he knew that they made fun 
of him behind his back. 

Mariette took a different tack from the rest. 
She simply ignored his existence ; swept passed 
him as if she did not see him, sometimes ran 
straight into him as if he were made of air, before 
he had time to spring aside. The dismissal of 
the servant had evidently been a great annoyance 
to the fiery little person. 

But the other persons whom Mira really 
wished to annoy, her grand friends and admirers 
continued to pursue the course they had adopted 
on that evening on which Lou’s star had first 
been in the ascendant. “ Monsieur Lou of 
Cairo ? ” — quite so ; why not ? They would soon 
cure the eccentric little syren of this freak. 


198 


LOU 


They behaved towards Lou with the utmost 
courtesy and seemed to take this “black 
gentleman ” quite seriously. They overlooked 
his many clumsinesses with apparent magnanimity, 
or declared much that he did or left undone to 
be “of the very latest chic” They led him into 
all sorts of absurdities of dress, and then imitated 
him. It was “ Monsieur Lou of Cairo does this. 
Monsieur Lou of Cairo says that. ” 

The ephemeral gossip of the boulevards began 
to occupy itself more and more with Mira’s 
friend. In private of course they shrugged their 
shoulders in contempt : how could the brilliant, 
the famous Mira lose her head over that half 
savage } 

Spiteful tongues were ready to give full and 
thrilling details of the strange relations ; jealousy 
tweaking some of them with red-hot pincers. 

Mira would not let herself be put out. 
“ They sha’n’t have anything to say against you 
Lou ! I can’t paint your face white, but as to 
culture, we’ll soon paint and decorate you, so 
that you can show yourself with the best.” 

And just as years ago she forced French 
phrases upon him, so now she began tormenting 
him with “ culture.” She instructed him how 
to come and go with chic, how to sit down, 


MONSIEUR LOU OF CAIRO 


199 


how to eat and drink, even how to light a cigar. 
She called it “ studies in comme-il faiit^ 

This time, too, there was much to laugh at, and 
she never missed an opportunity. The great 
toilette glass was generally a witness of their 
exercises, and sometimes the diva would wear the 
burlesque “ masher ” costume in which she appeared 
before the delighted spectators of “ Fla-Fla.” 

“ Not so low — that bow, Lou ! You’ll run your 
head into the looking-glass next.” And turning 
to the glass she made him an elegant, graceful, 
smiling bow. She had practised it often enough 
ere now and before a far smaller mirror. 

She took hold of him lightly, stood beside him 
at the glass, and forced him down with her in a 
bow. 

“ But you must not grin so, Lou — everything in 
its right place. Now, again, again ! Bravo, bra- 
vissimo ! Another hundred of such bows and I 
think you will have caught it at last.” 

Mariette, peeping through the chink of the 
door, could scarcely stifle her giggles. But in the 
kitchen she remarked, tapping her forehead with 
a sarcastic finger, that Madame must be cracked 
to be cutting such capers with a marionette like 
that. 

On one occasion Count Cabrera surprised them 


200 


LOU 


at this deportment practice. His Mephistc head, 
with the small piercing black eyes, suddenly 
appeared between them in the mirror. 

It was like a spook, and gave Mira a real shock 
of fright. 

But she recovered herself instantly, swung Lou 
round with her by the arms, and repeated the bow 
to Cabrera. Lou was forced to do it too. 

Cabrera took it quite as a matter of course ; not 
a trace of his peculiar sardonic smile upon his 
face. He considered it all very natural ; she 
was evidently joking, and he laughed perfectly 
good-naturedly with her. 

But afterwards Lou heard him talking very 
seriously to her at the other end of the boudoir. 
He was darting short sharp remarks at her, cast- 
ing stern reproaches in her face, and that with a 
quiver in his deep voice which seemed to imply 
that he had a certain right to make these 
complaints. 

She answered now and then with a laugh, 
growing less and, assured, till it sank to a mere 
faint echo. 

Her eyes were on the ground, and she was 
playing with the leaves of a great plant, rolling 
and unrolling them pitilessly. Suddenly she 
raised her head, tossed back the golden hair with 


MONSIEUR LOU OF CAIRO 


201 


a jerk, and turned 'upon him, defiance flashing 
from her splendid eyes. 

“ What are you talking about, Count What do 
you want } I love him ! Yes, I love him ! ” she 
cried aloud, as if she gloried in it. 

And she left him planU la. 

“ They’re angry ! They angry ! “she cried 
exultingly when Cabrera had gone. 

“ Now, Lou, quick — that bow again ! I should 
like to know who dares to say anything to me ! ’’ 

“ I love him ; yes, I love him.” It rang in Lou’s 
ears all the evening ; he did not hear one note of 
“ Fla-Fla.’^ 

Ah, he did not believe it ; he would not be so 
foolish. She had only said it to annoy that man : 
a caprice, a manoeuvre. It was nothing more- 


CHAPTER XIX. 


GUIGNOL. 

They made up their minds to have a good laugh 
once more ; Lou had positively forgotten how, 
and Mira determined to teach him again. 

On a bright sunny afternoon in spring, Mira’s 
victoria drove into the Champs Elysees and 
stopped not far from the great Alcazar. There 
was quite a stir as she came sweeping along, 
splendid and smiling, with Lou slouching a few 
paces behind in his new tall hat, looking almost 
as if he might be her servant. As she tripped 
along the crowded rows of chairs in the pro- 
menade there was a general “ Ah ! ” of admiration 
at her wonderful hair, which glittered in the sun- 
shine, making a halo round her delicate face. 

She directed her course towards the railed-in 
audience of children and nurses sitting in front of 
Lyonese Marionette Theatre. Guignol had not 
yet begun his pranks, but his sly vagabond face 


GUIGNOL 


203 


grinned at them from the drop scene on the little 
stage. A few squeaky violins fiddled away at a 
merry tune, most of which was lost in the chatter- 
ing of the little spectators. 

With exaggerated politeness the proprietress 
offered the new arrivals seats in the front row. 

“ No, we want to see the children laugh,” 
protested Mira, and pushed Lou towards two 
empty chairs in the very centre of the closely 
packed crowd of children. 

What a commotion it created amongst them ! 
To their already excited imagination Mira 
seemed like some dazzling and lovely emissary 
from fairyland, and there sat a real live negro, 
quite close to them ! What further need of 
Guignol ? 

All the little heads, all the wide astonished 
eyes were turned towards them ; they crowded 
together on the chairs in order to have a better 
view, some of them even stood up on the seats. 
In the intense excitement of the moment the 
little red tongues went in and out between the 
dewy heart-shaped lips. 

A little girl sitting next to Lou was frightened 
and left her seat ; the bigger ones laughed at her. 
“ He doesn’t bite ; why, he doesn’t bite. He’s quite 
tame ! ” went round the whispering nudging rows. 


204 


LOU 


A boy with sparkling beady black eyes 
plucked up courage and held out his hand to 
Lou. The others would not be behind him in 
bravery, they must all shake his hand ; there was 
a great pushing and scrambliug between the chairs. 

Lou smiled to see the little soft pink hands 
struggling for his big hard brown one ; his teeth 
became visible. 

“ Mamma, look at his teeth ! ” cried a 
frightened little one. “ What teeth ! Oh, what 
teeth ! ” Astonishment not unmixed with fear, 
was depicted on every little face. 

Guignol rang up the curtain ; in the instant 
every little head turned towards the stage. 

“ Lou, you will have to take off your hat, or 
they won’t be able to see behind you,” said Mira. 

The harlequinade began : Guignol distributed 
the first few blows — Clipp, clapp ! clipp, clapp ! — 
of his cruel thick cudgel on the hard staring 
wooden heads of the puppets. The first laugh 
thrilled up lark-like into the sunny April air. 

Ah, it did one good to laugh ! 

Mira was as happy as a child ; at the best 
parts she would nudge Lou to make him join 
in properly in the laughter, which he did most 
heartily ; here he was thoroughly at home, a 
child amongst the children. 


GUIGNOL 


205 


From time to time a little head would turn 
to look at Lou’s white teeth ; and the great broad 
grin of those teeth excited them to renewed and 
louder laughter. 

It was a delightful chorus of clear little high- 
pitched voices, twittering like birds, or with shrill, 
silver, bell-like notes, and the deeper tones of the 
nurses in between ; while Mira’s delicious peals 
broke through the general merriment like the 
sudden upward leap of a fountain. 

A soft breeze fanned the little laughter-flushed 
faces and stirred the feathers and ribbons on 
the hats ; through the lightly swaying leaves of 
the trees the sunbeams danced and flickered like 
a swarm of golden butterflies over the gay and 
restless little audience. 

Ah ! what bliss to be a child once more ! 

It was a stupid little play ; you couldn’t make 
out clearly what it was all about. Among other 
things there was a Marquis in a cocked hat who 
appeared to be engaged in an extraordinary love 
affair with a young lady in stiff brocade. The lady 
rejected his suit with angular gestures. He vowed 
he would shoot himself, Very good, he might ! 

Immediately afterwards a miniature shot was 
heard behind the scenes — only a cap they let off ; 
the Marquis had shot himself ! But Guignol 


206 


LOU 


appeared upon the scene, laughing, and declaring 
that the Marquis would probably very soon come 
to life again, as he, Guignol, had privately re- 
moved the priming from the pistol. If he did not 
die of fright, all would yet be well. 

What ailed Mira that her laughter died away 
and even the last trace of a smile faded gradually, 
from her face ? 

When the pistol went off she started and trem- 
bled — that was nothing out of the way ; but 
in Guignol’s next knock-about scene she only gave 
one or two hysterical short laughs, and sat there, 
silent, staring at the stage with deeply brooding 
half-terrified eyes. Suddenly, when the shouts of 
delight were at their loudest, she rose, and with a 
last attempt at a smile beckoned to her com- 
panion to come with her. 

Followed by the perplexed Lou, she rushed 
hurriedly to her carriage, and bade the coachman 
drive on, no matter where — only to drive ! 

She leaned back in a corner of the carriage 
pillowed in her own hair, her half-drooping lids 
concealing the strange hard electric glitter of her 
eyes. Her delicate nostrils quivered. Now and 
again she would close the fan sharply with which 
she shielded her face from the mild April sun, 
and beat a rapid tattoo with it on her knee. 


GUIGNOL 


ii 07 

They drove along the Champs Elysees and 
the Avenue de Tlmperatrice to the Bois de 
Boulogne. Several people bowed to the carriage ; 
Mira did not appear to notice it. Not a word 
passed between them. 

At last when the carriage turned into a remote 
avenue, where the prospect opened out wide before 
them, she remarked carelessly, “You were very 
fond of your Moussou, Lou ? ” 

The words were hardly put as a question. 
She knew very well — had seen years ago — how 
deeply attached he was to the Marquis. 

“ I knew somebody who was very fond of him 
too.” Her voice was hard, almost indifferent, her 
eyes void of all expression. 

Lou raised himself inquiringly. 

“ The woman who drove him to his death, 
Lou ... . ” She opened her fan slowly and shut 
it again. She felt Lou’s wide bewildered eyes 
upon her face, but she did not look at him. 

“ Do you understand ? The woman who drove 
him to his death . . . .” she repeated very slowly, 
with increased emphasis. 

She settled her head farther back, and fixing 
her eyes upon the clouds, she asked with forced 
composure : “ Well, Lou, what would you do to 

her if you got hold of her ? ” 


2o8 


LOU 


Lou did not answer. 

It was very quiet ; no sound but the grinding 
of the wheels on the macadam, and the mono- 
tonous tramp of the horses’ hoofs. 

“Well, Lou.?” 

She turned round sharply, scorching him with 
the lightnings of her eyes. “ Ah ! ” she cried) 
her voice shaken with excitement, “you would 
avenge your dead Moussou on her — wouldn’t you? 
Would you kill her ? Strangle her with your own 
hands — tear her throat with your teeth ? . . . . 
Ah, Lou ! you would not do it. . . .” It was as 
though she had been trying to rouse the savage 
in him with the eager passion of her voice, her 
flaming eyes. Yes — yes — yes ! that is what he 
would do ! 

There was such fierce determination in the nod 
of his head and in the glance that flashed from 
his dark eyes that she could not repress a shudder. 

Turning away from him again, and laying a 
trembling hand on his: “You are a good fellow, 
Lou ! — better than any of us ! ” 

What did it all mean ? What was she hinting 
at ? 

Another interval of deep silence. 

Presently she began in the indifferent manner 
with which one discusses the news of the day, and 


GUIGNOL 


209 


without looking at him. “ I knew her very well — 
I know her still. She did love him — she thought 
she did — she vowed she did. She did not know 
but what that was love. Paris love ! Mon Dieu ! 
quite a special kind, a most abominably untrust- 
worthy kind of love. The ringing of a few gold 
pieces, and it is gone ! — the flash of a diamond, 
and it vanishes away ! ” 

Then with a deep heavy sigh : “ One should 

not condemn her wholly — no, one should not 
quite condemn her. She had never heard of any 
other kind of love — what could you expect 
of her ? You can’t change your skin. The 
unlucky part of it was that he suffered from 
a totally different kind — yes, he suffered under it ; 
he wrote verses, your Moussou ; he was fond of 
promenading in the clouds. You see, my friend 
Lou, it is a very stupid story on the whole. If 
Guignol were to act it as it really happened, it 
would be a sad failure. Their bliss did not last 
very long : an excessively expensive bliss for your 
Moussou — it plunged him in debt, it ruined him. 
He might have pulled himself up in time, but no — 
his love was deaf and blind. 

“ But hers was so terribly clear-sighted, with all 
its wits about it. He came to her one day and 
said, ‘ I am a beggar, but what does that matter ? 

O 


210 


LOU 


You love me and I love you.’ He wanted to work, 
to begin a new life. It sounded so true — so 
sweet : just like a novel. 

« Yes — she would be true to him, she vowed, 
and they shed a good many tears together. 

“ And she meant it — by Heaven she meant it ! 
One must not be too hard on her. But there 
was such a frightful thirst in her for all that was 
costly and brilliant and beautiful, for all that 
had a great name, everything glittering, for sweet 
sounds and sweet perfumes. 

“ She did not feel herself strong enough to 
endure that thirst which she knew she could 
satisfy at any moment. But then, too, what a 
dreamer he was to believe in the constancy of 
Paris love ! 

“ As I said before, an absurdly simple story. 
He saw her one day in the Bois driving in a 
strange carriage. She had been taken by surprise, 
overcome by the splendid satin lining and the star- 
ing gold lace of the livery, and had not been able 
to resist. His lively imagination very probably 
saw more in the affair than really existed ; he 
saw too much with his heart. He must have 
suddenly been stricken with doubt as to the 
strength of her vows of constancy, and that 
doubtless put the pistol to his breast. 


GUIGNOL 


2II 


** He did not tell her he was going to shoot 
himself, and she did not give him permission, like 
the lady in the play. He was so dreadfully 
hasty ; he should have waited ; she might have 
thought better of it, might perhaps have learned 
to feel the other — his — kind of love ! 

No, no, no ! ” she protested, “ no, no, no ! ” 
shaking her head violently, “ I know she never 
would have. The thirst was too great, it was too 
great ! ” 

It was as if she sought to reassure herself with 
her “ No, no ! ” she continued saying it at intervals 
to herself. 

Again silence. Through the rumbling of the 
carriage wheels you could hear the wood birds 
twittering and chirping ; out of the far distance, 
from some leafy grove, came single, full, alluring 
notes. It was very lonely here. 

In sudden alarm at the solitude she gave th 
order to turn back, speaking very loud, as if b)' 
her despotic tone to ward off every other thought. 

She cast a quick glance at Lou’s eager listen- 
ing eyes, and a mournful pitying smile played 
over her face. 

“ Dear Lou, I don’t suppose you have under- 
stood much of the whole story. Well, so much 
the better. One learns so many carefully turned 


212 


LOU 


phrases on the stage that it is difficult to get out 
of the habit afterwards ” 

And not another word till they reached home. 

She sat like a statue, lost in her own thoughts, 
only answering the bows of her acquaintances as 
they drove past with a scarcely perceptible 
haughty nod. 

A fresh breeze blew in their faces as they drove 
through the Champs Elysees, fluttering the feathers 
and lace upon her hat and the soft gold curls that 
wantoned in the nape of her neck. She lifted her 
little nose to the wind, blinking her eyes and 
opening her lips from time to time to draw in 
deep refreshing draughts of the cool air. 

Just before dinner Lou was standing at the 
window of the salon, his forehead pressed to the 
cool glass. Wild thoughts surged through his brain, 
although he had only grasped the half of what 
Mira had told him. 

Who was that fatal woman } Why had he 
noticed nothing at the time } Sharp as the stab of 
a dagger came the thought — ah ! that he could 
have avenged his Moussou then ! 

What had Mira said : “ Would you have strangled 
her with your own hands, Lou ? ” 

Yes, a thousand times, yes ! He clenchd those 
hands in sudden frenzy : yes, he would strangle 


GUIGNOL 


213 


her — now even. Where was she ? He would ask 
Mira, she must explain it a^l clearly to him. 

A hand was laid upon his shoulder — hers, 
Mira’s hands, gently, almost timidly. 

He turned round with a start. 

“ Stay ! ” she murmured, with drooping eyes. 
She was so pale, only her eyelids were reddened ; 
had she been weeping ? 

With a childlike, helpless movement, she leaned 
her head against his shoulder. 

All was still save for the loud hammering of 
his heart. 

Ah ! Lou — Lou — Lou ” 

Through the fierce beating of his heart he heard 
it, heard his name, like a wail, a plaintive whis- 
pered entreaty from her lips. 

She slowly rocked her little head, with its half- 
loosened coils of hair, to and fro against his 
shoulder. “ Ah ! Lou — Lou — Lou ! ” 

It seemed to do her good, to relieve her, thus 
to repeat his name. 

His heart stood still, every fibre of his being 
listened for that beseeching “ Lou ! ” He dared 
not move a muscle lest it should all melt away 
like a dream. 

A sigh broke from her. ‘‘ Lou, you are good ” 
she said with a melting quiver in her voice, and 


214 


LOU 


still rocking her head — “you have a good heart, 
Lou — yes, really a heart. We others — we have 
everything else, but we have no hearts.” 

She suddenly started, raised her head, clasped 
her hands before her face, and with her fingers 
clutched in her hair, the palms of her hands 
pressing against her eyeballs, she cried sharply : 
“ Ah ! how ugly, how pitiful, how hollow every- 
thing is 1 We are puppets, nothing but puppets in 
our miserable flimsy spangles. Oh, to be really 
human — nothing more ! If only one might be 
oneself ! ” 

Her whole frame was shaken by stormy sobs, 
her hands groped for some support. 

Then it was that the strangest, most inconceiv- 
able thing happened. . . 

She was lying on his breast, her arms clasped 
convulsively about his neck, wild passionate 
words breaking through her sobs. 

“Lou, I know you will despise me — not to- 
day, perhaps, but to-morrow — some day — it must 
come to that ; you will be obliged to despise me, 
even with such a heart as yours ! But I cannot 
be different — cannot, cannot, cannot help it ! 
The whole miserable comedy of life is too strong 
for us. I cannot help it ! Oh, forgive me ! ” 

As if paralysed by some terrific shock, he stood 


GUIGNOL 


215 


there, trembling and bewildered, listening to her 
wild words. 

And listen ; like a blaze of lightning suddenly 
flashing into the blackness of the night, so one 
word flooded his heart with glory. 

Hark ! “ Lou, I could have loved you — I 

could love you, some one like you — yourself — 
I could love ” 

Ah, her voice, her sweet, sweet voice ! 

“ Love.’^ Oh, he understood that one word ! 
Had she not taught it him before anything else } 

This time, yes, this time he dared to touch her. 
Only this once ! Only these few tiny seconds 
of heavenly human bliss ! 

He held her close, clasped in his arms. In 
an agony of frenzied passion he strained her to 
his heart as if, with the anguished foresight of 
despair, he knew it could never happen again. 

Her slender form seemed crushed in the iron 
clasp of that passionate embrace. With trem- 
bling lips he murmured wild foreign unintelligible 
words into the masses of her hair, his hot breath 
swept over her, he felt her shudder. 

With a sudden shrill cry she wrenched herself 
free of his arms and fled. 

Had it really happened ? Was it a dream .? No, 
his breast still heaved as if it must burst, his 


216 


LOU 


lips still murmured the accents of his native 
land. 

He remained spell-bound where she left him. 
When at last he tried to break the spell and 
walked a few steps, he reeled and nearly fell. 


CHAPTER XX. 


THE SLAVE MARKET. 

How the great ocean of stars wavered and 
billowed — these Paris stars never seemed to keep 
their places — there was no trusting them ; in 
Lou’s country they stood firmly rivetted in the 
deep sky, like golden nails, to each one of which 
one might safely fix one’s faith and trust and 
love. 

As Lou staggered along the streets of Paris 
that evening, ever and again through the wild 
storm of joy which swept over his senses he heard 
the shrill echo of her words — “ Paris faith — Paris 
love ! ” 

Oh ! that he could grasp his heart tight with 
bodily hands that it might not break — not to- 
night — in unspeakable bliss ; not on the morrow, 
under the burden of the unutterable woe with 
which that Paris love would crush him. 

From that day Mira developed a strange 


2i8 


LOU 


shyness of Lou, and avoided being alone with him. 
There were always guests at table now. She was 
ashamed of having laid bare to him the innermost 
recesses of her heart ; she was afraid that he 
would take that madness — that paroxysm — that 
unaccountable, shuddering horror of her life that 
had overcome her, as something serious : the 
simple fellow was positively capable of doing so ! 

She proceeded to let loose the whole battery of 
her caprices upon her admirers, her servants — 
even Lou. Now and then it would seem as if 
she regretted her generosity and demanded such 
services of Lou as must inevitably sink him once 
more to the level of a servant. She would do it 
even in the presence of guests. 

Lou was ever willing to obey her behests. 
“ Lou not gentleman — Lou servant ! ” It relieved 
him too from the intolerable strain of playing the 
gentleman. He was glad to be lowly, to return 
to the insignificant position in the great human 
family which belonged to him as a man of colour. 

So long as she would suffer him to be near her, 
if only he might let his pathetic love for her glow 
and burn in peace, he would be satisfied to liVe 
upon the memory of those few short moments of 
bliss which she had cast like an alms at his feet, as 
long as time should exist for him. 


THE SLAVE MARKET 


219 


But sometimes a madness came over him, and 
he had difficulty in keeping back his jealousy. 
Cabrera was at the bottom of all her freaks. 
Something serious was going on between the 
Count and her. Reports fluttered about the 
boulevards like wasps. So Count Cabrera was 
actually capable of wanting to marry this firework 
of a Mira ! Well, she was not likely to refuse his 
brilliant name and his castles in Spain — which 
really existed ! 

If any of these reports came to her ears she 
merely laughed — her invariable way of helping 
herself over every embarrassing situation. “ Why 
not ? ” she admitted with her saucy imperious air. 
“La Comtesse Cabrera . . . Well, gentlemen— 
and is that a name to be refused when it is 
politely offered to one Madame la Comtesse 
Cabrera y Calabranca ! Magnificent ! — why, in 
the very name you hear the sweep of the Countess* 
train ! ” 

Ah, the thirst — the thirst was too great ! 
She would not be able to resist it. “ Can one 
change one’s skin ? ” 

“Fla-Fla” was given for the three hundredth time, 
and the event was celebrated in the diva’s apart- 
ments. She sat surrounded by her devoted 
admirers, radiant in all the bravery of her bizarre 


220 


LOU 


taste. It was as if all the brightness which 
hooded the dinner-table emanated from her, as if 
from the fire of her glances alone the sparkling 
crystal, the gleaming silver, and all these smiling, 
laughing faces caught their light. The unfettered 
masses of her wonderful hair waved over the 
alabaster whiteness of her firm round throat, her 
eyes shone in deepest lapis-lazuli blue, her lips 
glowed like pomegranates. What wonder that 
Lou should look upon her more than ever as a 
godlike idol, raised far above this mortal world } 
He gazed and gazed until her beauty seemed to 
intoxicate him. 

In honour of this festive occasion she had 
designed something special for Lou ; he was to 
appear among the guests in the picturesque 
costume of his country. The choosing and 
arranging of this costume had cost her no little 
trouble. 

“ It will suit him a thousand times better than 
the convict dress of the modern gentleman ! ” she 
said. 

It was late, and champagne and enthusiasm 
had raised their spirits to a high pitch. By 
chance a serious remark was thrown in upon the 
swirl and rush of conversation : some one spoke 
of the floods in the districts of the lower Rhone, 


THE SLAVE MARKET 


221 


what misery they had caused and how little had 
been done as yet for the houseless inhabitants. 

How would it be to get up an auction for 
them ? ” suggested some one. 

The idea was hailed with delight and at once 
put into action. The fat Due de Mussy, with 
his rich gourmet's voice, must play the part of 
auctioneer ; he might sit down if it got too much 
for him. 

“ A hammer, of course we must have a 
hammer, everything must be quite correct ! ” 
cried the Duke very loudly, to try his voice, and 
puffing out his full round face with an assumption 
of great importance. 

Le beau Fronsacques arrived with the hammer. 
He had fetched a charming little gold em- 
broidered slipper out of the diva’s boudoir : it 
was the very thing. “ Capital — perfect ! came 
from all sides. 

An old gentleman, in whose sharply-pointed 
face the nose almost touched the chin, could not 
take his eyes off the dainty little thing. Twinkling 
and smiling, he turned it round and round in his 
trembling hand, and tapped it — clipp-clapp — upon 
the table ; his lifeless eyes regaining their 
animation at the sound. 

At first trifles only were bid for. They plun- 


222 


LOU 


dered the mountain of bouquets piled up behind 
the diva’s chair. Then they took the costly 
lace handkerchief lying beside her on the table, 
cutting it in pieces that it might fetch a higher 
price. The pieces went like wild-fire — they stuck 
them in their button-holes like orders. After this 
they began to plunder her dress, cutting off the 
pearl fringes, the ribbons, the lace, and finally 
boldly attacked the stuff itself. 

“Now, then!” cried Mira, laughing, “you will be 
playing the part, of lady’s maid a little too 
naturally presently. Hands off!” and she rapped 
the boldest pretty smartly on the fingers with her 
fan. “ But now, it is the gentlemen’s turn. I bid 
thirty francs for M. de Fronsacques’ left coat- 
tail ! ” 

It was no use trying to resist ; de Fronsacques 
was obliged to give in and let them curtail his 
coat by the desired half. 

“ Barbarous ! ” he murmured ; had his great-coat 
brought, and played the indignant, to the huge 
delight of the others. 

The bids went up when the champagne glass 
out of which the diva had drunk during the 
evening was put up for sale. It was knocked 
down for 130 francs. 

“ Now the slipper itself,” cried sprightly little 


THE SLAVE MARKET 


223 

Monsieur de Servi from the other end of the 
table : “ fetch the fellow to it ! ” 

Having got the fellow-slipper from the boudoir, 
the first went for 450 francs. It was knocked 
down to the old gentleman — he was supremely 
happy. He set it on the table in front of him, 
and watched over his treasures anxiously, lest 
some one should take it from him. 

** The diva’s hair! A hundred francs for a tiny 
lock I ” cried de Servi. 

“ Lou — a pair of scissors ! ” cried Mira. “ But 
Baron Wisby shall cut it — nobody else ! ” 

She was quite sure of the bashful, maidenly 
Wisby not cutting too much ; besides which she 
owed him some slight return for his silent, sighing 
adoration. 

It was killing to see Wisby snipping around 
with the golden scissors — timidly — very carefully 
— blushing hotter and hotter till the others tittered 
and laughed. 

“ Go on — go on I cried an unsteady voice. 

It was as if a magic perfume streamed out 
upon him from the living silk into which he was 
privileged to plunge his fingers at will, intoxicating 
him, till he had difficulty in concealing the nervous 
tremor of his hands. 

The little locks were gone before you could 


224 


LOU 


turn round. A larger one, which Wisby must have 
cut by mistake, he got such a shock when he saw 
it, fetched iioo francs. 

“ That’s enough ! ” exclaimed Mira after it had 
been handed over to the enraptured buyer. 

“ Ah ! — she is afraid of thinning it too much ! ” 
was the teasing comment from various quarters : 
her wealth of hair was probably not as real as it 
looked. 

This stung her vanity. Shaking her head 
violently till the locks lashed round her like 
serpents, she cried: “Wisby, have the goodness 
to cut into it properly — cut plenty ! Cut as much 
as you like, do you hear } ” 

Wisby plucked up courage and cut out a 
thick, shining, splendid lock. It excited him to 
such a degree that he dropped his shyness and 
victoriously outbid the rest. He received the 
lock for 4300 francs. There was a burst of 
applause. 

“ He will set up an altar for it ! He will build 
a shrine for his holy relic ! ” 

They begged Mira to sing one of her Egyptian 
songs — “ My mother has eaten all the dates,” or 
another. 

“ With pleasure. I will sing for a Napoleon 
d’or a head,” she assented, in the business-like 



THE SLAVE MARKET 


225 

tone in which she was in the habit of fixing her 
salary at the theatre. 

They were quite agreeable to the arrangement. 

“ Monsieur Lou ought to collect as it is some- 
thing from his country,” said De Servi. “ Monsieur 
Lou must collect,” they cried in chorus. 

They handed Lou the slipper, which he took 
round at the conclusion of the song amidst the 
shrill bravas! the clinking of glasses, and the 
“Heavenly!” “Perfect!” of the wine-loosened 
tongues. Some of them gave more for the sake 
of the Egyptian costume. 

As Lou stood at the other side, just opposite 
Mira, Cabrera’s nervous flushed face leaned over 
her shoulder. Drawing out his sharp, pointed 
moustache with outspread fingers he observed, in 
his supercilious, bored manner : 

“ Supposing we were to put him up for auction 

Mira started. “ Whom ? ” 

Whom could he mean } He had indicated 
nobody — not by the faintest sign. 

“ Why Monsieur Lou of Cairo. What do you 
say, Mira ? ” — as calmly as if he were referring to 
some article on the table. 

“ Cabrera — are you mad ? ” she flared out ; 
“ have you been drinking ? — do you imagine we 
are in Turkey? 

P 


226 


LOU 


She was so taken by surprise that she could 
not find words in which to express her indignation 
adequately. 

“ We should make a splendid haul,” Cabrera 
continued, as if she had not spoken. 

‘‘I will have nothing of the kind,” retorted Mira 
furiously, “ the mere suggestion is infamous ! Lou 
is my friend, he has the strongest claims upon my 
hospitality. What are you thinking of, Cabrera ! 
Try your jokes on somebody else ! ” and she 
turned from him with a half-disdainful jerk of her 
lovely shoulder. 

But Cabrera stuck obstinately to his idea, and 
more than usually excited by the wine, he tried to 
get the others to back him up ; — how thrilling ! a 
bit of slave market in the middle of Paris ! They 
were surely not expected to take the black gentle- 
man seriously any longer. Breteuilles had paid a 
pretty price for him down in Cairo. 

Mira flew into a passion. “ You must all have 
gone raving mad ! ” She had never been so angry. 

A meaning remark upon her friendship with 
Lou reached her ears ; she turned with flaming 
eyes in the direction from which it came. “ Who ? 
What > No — I will not part from him ! ” she 
cried in shrill high tones, and with a bold sweep of 
her fan, embracing the whole circle, she sent the 


THE SLAVE MARKET 


227 


full measure of her scorn in their faces — “ He is 
worth a thousand times more than all of you put 
together ! ” 

“ Sapristi ! ” hiccupped a drunken voice. 

“ I wonder now what he did cost ? ” drawled 
Fronsacques. 

They would have let the matter drop, fearing 
a really unpleasant scene. 

Then it was that Cabrera leaned towards the 
diva once more, addressing her in a studiedly care- 
less manner over the shoulder she had turned upon 
him. At first she pretended not to listen, pur- 
posely throwing out a question on some indifferent 
subject across the table, and breaking in loudly 
upon his whisper. 

But presently something caught her attention ; 
she listened eagerly, excitedly, her eyes sparkled 
and flashed out at what he was saying. She dug 
her little teeth deeper and deeper into her lower 
lip, the delicate nostrils quivered, an intense 
burning flush spread over brow and neck, and a 
look of embarrassment, most unusual to her, rose 
to her face. 

She turned and surveyed the speaker with 
something very like hatred, and hurled a word at 
him — sharp and cutting — like an insult. 

He dropped his well-bred, measured, almost icy 


manner. “ Those are my conditions. If you will 
not make me this concession, if you cannot give 
up your caprice with regard to your black gentle- 
man — you may keep him, and I will go my 
way ! Mira — enough of these freaks and fancies ; 
I do not like the gossip and the talk they occasion. 
You owe it to me ! I demand it ! He or I — 
nothing less ! ” 

Through the imperious tone of the last words 
there quivered a touch of real, heartfelt emotion. 
She had never heard it from him before, she 
glanced up at him in surprise and met his eyes 
full. Did he really love her — this blas6 man of 
the world ? or did he merely want to make her 
his wife because of the novelty — the unusual 
character of such a union ? Was it possible that 
his heart should burn for her ? — had he been able 
to save any heart at all out of the whirlpool of 
life — this Count Cabrera } 

She drooped her little head and whispered 
something. Hot passionate words, which they 
seemed to wring from one another, flew backwards 
and forwards between them ; now and then some 
single word or other would break through the 
whisper with a sudden metallic ring. 

The others turned away ostentatiously, but 
listened nevertheless with their backs, with their 


THE SLAVE MARKET 


229 


elbows. They winked knowingly at one 
another. 

Cabrera raised his head— raised it high — a glow 
of triumph lit up his face. He waited awhile 
and then managed to lead back the conversation 
to the subject of the slave market. 

She could bid too, they said to Mira. This 
put the matter in a new light to her — so, at least, 
she persuaded herself. It was a joke, then ?— 
“but a very poor — a very brutal joke!” she 
exclaimed with a last effort of indignation. 

“But consider, Madame, what the joke wijl 
bring in ! ” returned de Servi. 

“ Well — I’ve no objection,” she assented — all 
trace of her former spirit gone. But a pang 
smote her heart, the air of the room seemed to 
choke her, her bosom rose and fell in deep 
struggling breaths against the restraining 
bodice. 

Lou had understood nothing of all this. The 
talk went round of some vague “ he ” and “ him,’’ 
and they avoided looking at him as if afraid to 
meet his eye. Alas — all his senses were absorbed 
in worshipping his idol. 

Lou was put up for auction. 

The Due de Mussy roused himself out of his 
easy position — the article seemed worth the 


230 


LOU 


trouble. He puffed and blew violently, and rapped 
the table once or twice with the slipper. 

“ Gentlemen — attention ! ” he cried in his 
richest tones, “a perfectly flawless article — war- 
ranted genuine ! The finest teeth in the world ! 
Extraordinarily tame and very well trained ! ” 

A sardonic laugh burst across the table — they 
were revenging themselves for having been forced 
by Mira to put up with the “ black gentleman.” 

“ Stop that ! ” commanded Mira, turning to the 
Duke, “ what’s that for ? ” 

“ I put him up at three hundred francs ! ” cried 
the Duke with business-like composure. 

Mira shot up from her chair. “ What Three 
hundred francs ! ” she burst out. “ Ah^ — but I 
must really beg — Duke— it is not a cat or a 
parrot ! What sort of dog would you get for 
that price ! Three thousand francs ! Allans^ 
Messieurs — three thousand ! ” 

“ Three thousand francs for the first ! ” repeated 
the Duke instantly. 

A drunken voice belonging to the enormous 
doubled-up form of the banker Goussard inquired 
sleepily what it was all about. The ever-ready 
de Servi hastened to intercept the true answer. 

“ They are bidding for the peacock up there ! ” 
he shouted in his ear, and pointed to the stuffed 


THE SLAVE MARKET 


231 


peacock which spread its magnificent variegated 
tail on the top of a great cabinet. ‘‘ Real rubies 
in the eyes, Monsieur Goussard ! ” 

“ Sapristi ! Five thousand francs ! ” he hiccupped, 
and fixed his eyes from that moment on the 
peacock in a watery stare. 

“ Six thousand ! ” bid somebody directly after. 

“Come Messieurs — it is not a horse!” cried 
Mira indignantly. “ Seven thousand ! — what am 
I saying 1 — Eight thousand I — Eight thousand, 
Messieurs 1 ” 

“ Eight thousand for the first ! ” announced 
the Duke. 

“ And five hundred,” stammered Goussard, 
“ sha’n’t — give — a centime though — if even one — 
feather’s missing.” 

“ Eight thousand five hundred for the first 1 ” 

“ Ten thousand 1 ” cried Mira as if carried away 
by the sums. 

“ Ten thousand for the first I ” echoed the 
Duke. 

No further bid ; the slipper rapped loudly in 
the intense listening hush. 

“ Nobody any more ? ” puffed the Duke. 

The diva let fall a brief remark. “ I have no 
doubt he will be given back to me again, even -if 
I don’t bid any more.” 


LOU 


232 

Fifteen thousand francs ! " cried a shrill falsetto 
voice on the instant. 

“ Fifteen thousand ! Wisby has bid fifteen 
thousand ! ” exclaimed Fronsacques’ grating voice. 
“ I bid sixteen thousand — Duke — sixteen thousand 
for me.” 

“He is not worth that,” observed a deep bass 
voice between. 

“ How — not worth it } ” Mira’s remark had 
fired them. It was a question now of making 
her a present of the Nubian. Cabrera did not 
join in the bidding. Sixteen thousand — seven- 
teen — eighteen thousand were bid in quick 
succession. 

Lou stood in the background listening to this 
confused calling out of numbers, his teeth gleaming 
between his lips, half-open in astonishment, while 
he shook his head gently — what rare treasure 
could it be for which they were heaping up such 
sums ! 

Goussard beckoned to him with a long out- 
stretched arm. “Bid five hundred more — do you 
hear } ” he breathed heavily into Lou’s ear. 

Lou grinned and shook his head. 

“Will you bid nineteen thousand this minute — 

you — you ” He could not find the right 

expression for Lou ; the broken voice sounded 


THE SLA VE MARKET 


233 


menacing, and he shook the Nubian angrily with 
both hands. 

“ Nine-teen — thousand,” came a whisper no 
louder than the flutter of a moth’s wing. 

“ Who ? — who bid nineteen thousand ? ” They 
looked around inquiringly. 

Lou looked thoroughly frightened as all eyes 
turned towards him. 

Who } What } Lou ? What does it mean '! 
What nonsense ! 

They tried to laugh at the good joke which 
Lou had perpetrated — but the laugh stuck in 
their throats, they could only titter discon- 
certedly. 

“ AllonSy attention gentlemen,” insisted the 
Duke strained voice, “ Eighteen thousand are bid. 
Who next ? Eight-teen thousand for the first ! ” 
He simply let Monsieur Lou’s nineteen thousand 
pass unnoticed. 

“ Twenty thousand ! ” piped Wisby’s little tin- 
trumpet voice. His little face glowed a feverish 
scarlet and his watery-blue eyes flashed like the 
facettes of a crystal. 

“ Hold hard, Wisby ! Not too fast, little Baron ! ” 
— they chaffed him on all sides. 

“ Twenty thousand for the first ” 

Mira sat with a forced stage smile upon her 


234 


LOU 


lips. She had bid no more. She did not dare 
to glance at Lou. 

“Twen-ty thou-sand for t»he second!” with a 
rap of the slipper between each syllable. 

“Twenty-five thousand,” said a voice. The 
tone was perfectly indifferent as if the sum were 
not worth mentioning. The Duke did not seem 
to have heard. 

“ And twenty thousand for the ” 

“ Stop,” broke in Fronsacques, “ twenty-five 
thousand has been bid.” 

“ By whom } ” 

“ Why — Cabrera 1 ” 

There was no sign of either assent or dissent 
on his immovable face. 

“ Well — twenty-five thousand, then,” cried the 
Duke with a shrug. “ Twenty-five thousand for 
the first — ” 

“ Twenty-six thousand 1 ” screamed Wisby 
desperately. 

“ He’s raving ! ” they exclaimed. 

“ Twenty-eight thousand,” said Cabrera, rather 
louder this time, and with a jerk of the head as if 
to shake off some teazing, buzzing insect. 

Even the Duke cast a slightly surprised glance 
across at Cabrera, and raised the slipper higher 
than before. “ Eight and twenty thousand for 


THE SLAVE MARKET 


235 


the first ! ” he said, bringing out each word very 
slowly and distinctly. 

Deep silence. 

“ Eight and twenty thousand for the second — ” 

Not a breath stirred. 

“ And for the third ! ” 

The slipper fell with a hollow resounding stroke 
upon the table. 

Then the babel of voices and laughter broke 
out. They surrounded Cabrera, clinking glasses 
and congratulating him. Some of them chaffed 
him, and Mira tried to join in, but her few shrill 
attempts at laughter were drowned in the 
surrounding noise. 

“ We should not have done it,” she said 
presently, her face clouding darkly. 

“ Give me air ! ” she cried in a minute or two. 
“ Why doesn’t somebody open the window } It is 
enough to suffocate one here ! ” 

Lou was still unconscious of the whole affair. 
But he could not help remarking how some of 
them kept stealing glances at him — uneasy 
searching glances — as much as to say — “ was 
he worth twenty -eight thousand francs — this 
Nubian?” 

Why had Mira grown so silent ? and why did 
the laughter of the others die away by degrees 


236 


LOU 


and the conversation languish ; why did they joke 
no more, nor drink so much wine ? 

Once the deep bass voice came rumbling 
through the oppressive stillness : — “ In Cairo — 
parbleu — in Cairo, they cost eight thousand at the 
outside ! ” 

At the sudden change from boisterous merri- 
ment to the gloomy hush of a death-bed room 
Lou could only shake his head again — “ What 
curious creatures these civilised people are ! ” 

He did not find out for some time. Mira 
called him to her. She was leaning back in an 
armchair, her eyes flashing over the edge of her 
wide-spread fan. 

“ Lou — you are a good fellow,” she said in her 
soft liquid tones. The little feathers of her fan 
fluttered as she waved it lightly to and fro. 

Lou stood before her with crossed arms, showing 
his teeth and wondering what was coming. 

“ Lou, what were you what do you think 

you ” 

Why should she hesitate for the right ttrm ? 

“ Well, Lou — about how much are you worth ? 
What do you think they would have given for 
you down in Cairo .? ” 

Her brow flushed suddenly, but she kept the 
lower part of her face concealed. 


THE SLAVE MARKET 


237 


Lou did not know what to say. He remembered 
the two francs for which he had offered himself at 
the gate of the country house. 

''Lou worth — nothing — Lou fond of Mira — 
Lou rien — ” he answered brokenly. There was a 
pathetic entreaty in his voice. 

" But supposing a whole basket full of gold 
were offered for you, Lou } ” 

" Mira not let Lou — go ! ” 

Ah, what honest, trusting, child’s eyes he had ! 

" Twenty- eight thousand francs have been 
offered for you, Lou — just think what money ! ” 
She dropped her eyes, her fan waved agitatedly. 

He opened his eyes wide in terror — in amaze- 
ment. 

“ Of course it was only a joke, mon cher]' she 
continued hurriedly ; " the twenty-eight thousand 
francs are for a lot of unfortunate people whom 
the water has driven out of house and home. 
Count Cabrera is going to pay it. There’s no 
must about it — not at all ; and he will not wish to 
keep you — he could not force you here in Paris 
anyhow. It is only a joke, he will give you back 
to me — won’t you. Count } 

Her voice shook a little. 

Cabrera’s eyes met hers with the cold gleam of 
steel. There was a malicious, saturnine look 


238 


LOU 


about the corners of his mouth. Very slowly — in 
token of refusal, he shook his head from side to side. 

“ Lou ! ” cried Mira, horror-stricken. 

For a flash of fury passed over the Nubian’s face. 
His eyes blazed in menace, and he pressed his 
clenched fist wildly against his breast. Only 
for a few heart-beats — then his head sank, 
brokenly, low upon his breast, and his arms hung 
heavy and limp at his sides. No sound came 
from him. 

It was very still in the room, nothing was 
heard but the faint flutter of Mira’s fan. 

The tipsy banker began trolling out Mira’s 
song ; “ My mother has eaten all the dates.” 

It was ghastly. 

Lou raised his head slowly, very slowly, and 
lifted it high. His whole slender frame seemed to 
follow — he appeared wonderfully tall. His eyes 
looked very large and hollow — a mysterious dark- 
ness stared from them, giving out no spark of 

light ; but no hatred either and no scorn 

not a trace of the menace of the moment before. 
And yet as they travelled round the circle, resting 
for a second or so on each face, every eye sank 
before them. Not one of them dared to look up 
as long as Lou marked them with that great 
dumb gaze. 


THE SLA VE MARKET 


239 


“ Preposterous ! ” murmured one of them, and 
yet they kept their eyes cast down. 

And still the breathless silence remained un- 
broken. 

Suddenly, with an ungainly gesture, Lou turned 
and went. 

No — in the middle of the room he stopped 
short and once more faced the company. His 
whole body stiffened, he leaned forward, his head 
drawn back in the intent attitude of a tiger about 
to spring upon his prey, the fingers of his slightly 
raised hands clawing the air. He glared round 
the circle, seeking him upon whom he should leap, 
and now — now — he will surely have him by the 
throat ! 

No — a low groan broke from him, he straight- 
ened himself convulsively — his access of fury had 
passed. 

Drawn to his full height — a pathetic dignity 
upon his noble face — he walked up to Mira. She 
was shaking from head to foot, you could hear 
her fan rattle. 

One last look Lou cast at the company. See- 
ing them sitting there so helpless, paralysed, livid 
— a faint smile of pity curled the corners of his 
mouth. Oh — he was not going to hurt Mira — 
he had no wish to revenge himself upon any of 


240 


LOU 


them ; — no, this was all he meant to do. Bending 
his knee before Mira, he seized the lace hem of 
her dress and pressed it to his forehead. It all 
passed in silence — not a word from his lips. 

When they looked up again he was gone — had 
vanished into thin air. 

A general deep breath of relief broke the night- 
mare that had weighed upon them. It was very 
embarrassing though afterwards ; they kept ner- 
vously to the most ordinary topics of conversation. 
In between came the chink of the money as the 
Duke went round collecting what he could get 
from everybody. Cabrera threw him a cheque 
for the twenty-eight thousand francs. 

“ How glad the poor wretches will be ! ” re- 
marked somebody. 

A nice evening this has been ! ” said Goussard, 
with a wavering side glance at the peacock with 
the “real ruby eyes.” 

No one mentioned Lou, no one inquired what 
had become of him. 

The party broke up very soon. They were 
ashamed before one another, because they had 
sat there like beaten hounds under the Nubian’s 
gaze. 


CHAPTER XXL 

THE GREAT DARKNESS 

The next morning the people of the house 
were all talking of the strange moaning and 
whimpering that had been heard on the stairs 
about dawn : it was like the wailing of a dying 
animal. 

When Lou left golden Mira’s salon he could 
only drag himself away, bowed down with shame 
and misery, into some remote corner of the house, 
and crouch there in utter despair. 

He had been put up for auction with a few 
withered flowers, a few rags of lace, a lock or 
two of hair, and a slipper ! She had suffered them 
to do it — had perhaps made the first suggestion 
in order to get rid of him. Oh ! that she should 
have chosen such a pitifully degrading way of 
showing him the door ! Why not have taken a 
whip and beaten him out > Ah ! he would have 
borne it cheerfully from her hand. 


Q 


242 


LOV 


But to be sold — bargained for — put up for sale 
like a senseless paltry thing, among the other 
trifles — a torn rag with the other rags ! 

The pale light of dawn drove him from his 
hiding-place. He began going downstairs step 
by step — creeping down on all-fours like an 
animal. A few steps down and then back again, 
in his helpless misery clasping the marble pillars 
of the banisters, as if to crush some pity out of 
the cold stone. 

It was very quiet on the staircase ; only his 
deep sighs breathed eeriely through the great 
empty space, and found an answering echo in 
every corner. Sometimes a whole ghostly troop 
of sighs would moan back at him and surround 
him. He listened for the echoes, starting nerv- 
ously when they came, and quickening the pace 
of his creeping. He stole past the mahogany 
doors on the landings in shuddering fear lest 
something horrible — a human face — should sud- 
denly peer out at him from one of them. 

The first sunbeam pierced the great groups 
of leaf plants in the staircase windows, the 
marble banisters glowed rosy red, and the golden 
bronze of the tall lamp-stands sent out long rays 
of dazzling light. There was no time to be lost ! 
Even the sun brought him no friendly greeting, 


THE GREAT DARKNESS 


243 


but only drove him pitilessly away, reminding 
him that he had no right to any place — no, not 
even to the smallest, meanest place in the world. 

The great door was still locked ; he cowered 
down beside the banisters and waited. He 
watched the daylight grow broader and broader, 
streaming in at the wide windows, flooding every 
surface, touching every point with a finger of 
fire. 

Oh, this intolerable radiance ! How it weighed 
upon his panting chest — how it burned his eyes ! 
He pressed the palms of his hands against his 
eyeballs to keep it out. 

A mysterious longing, such as he had never 
felt before, took hold upon him. Would that 
there were some darkness which would swallow 
up every object, and the false glitter which shone 
upon it ; if only there were no more sun, and the 
stars put out their scanty light ; would there were 
no more day, no human speech, no sound of 
beast, no laughter and no trembling sigh ; no 
ticking of the clock nor beat of hearts. Nothing 
— emptiness — silence — great, unfathomable, eter- 
nal darkness ! 

Many questions came into his mind suggested by 
that longing. Where was his dead Moussou .? Had 
dead Moussou found rest in the great darkness ? 


244 


LOU 


Would one sink into that darkness, if one did as 
dead Moussou had done ? 

The creaking of the heavy door, which the 
porter’s boy now opened, roused him from his 
musings. He got upon his feet at once and 
forced his slim body through the narrow opening ; 
the boy looked after him in astonishment : why 
not have pushed the door open a little wider ? 

The pavement outside was flooded with blinding 
light ; the sun, still low over the horizon, spread 
its rays down the whole length of the street. He 
turned his back on the brightness, and followed 
the long shadow stretching out in front of him. 
He stepped out quickly, as if hoping thereby 
soon, very soon, to reach that darkness towards 
which all his thoughts were tending. 

He loitered along the Seine quays, leaning 
against the parapets to stare into the glistening, 
rushing water. He stopped at the railings of the 
bridges, leaned far over and gazed and gazed. 
Passers-by would come and stand beside him, look- 
ing inquisitively, first at him and then at the water, 
to see what was the matter and what he was doing. 
He attracted the attention of a municipal Guard, 
who followed him for an hour from one halting- 
place to another. 

At length he turned his back upon the Seine in 


the great darkness 245 

disgust. Ah ! he would provide no spectacle for 
them at that hour. It was a lovely autumn after- 
noon, the river alive with boats passing up and 
down stream, and the bridges thronged with 
moving crowds. It would cause a commotion, 
that which he meant to do. He had played out 
his part in the great comedy of civilisation, he had 
served long enough as a puppet to that demon, 
advertiseraent, which tramples with a remorseless 
smile over new-made graves. 

He thought of dead Moussou, of high-souled 
Farmilli, even of Zeppa : what would they think 
of his throwing himself over one of the bridges 
like some desperate erring girl 1 A crowd would 
gather, they would fish him out — alive, perhaps ; 
or as a hideously disfigured corpse dripping with 
slimy water : he would be taken to the Morgue, 
where they would exhibit him among a row of 
criminals to the shuddering curiosity of the 
populace. 

He had a feeling as though that would lead him 
by a much longer road to the great darkness. 
No, not like that! Moussou would never have 
chosen that ugly way. 

Again he saw Moussou lying with his white 
face against the red velvet of the seat, the little 
chiselled pistol between the curved fingers ; thus, 


246 


LOV 


thus only, should it be done ! It was the last 
remnant of the vanity of his race, whispering to 
him that he must go the way of his Moussou, and 
no other. 

He counted the money which Mira was in the 
habit of giving him that he might “play the 
gentleman” when they drove out together, and 
made for the Boulevard Sebastopol. He stopped 
before a weapon shop, and feasted his eyes with a 
ghastly longing on the glittering steel of the 
sabres and the blue gleam of the gun-barrels. 
The pistols and revolvers stared at him with un- 
canny hollow eyes, his gaze seemed to press upon 
the little bright point of the trigger. It needed 
little more than the pressure of such a glance— and 
it was done ! 

He went in. The shopman spread out a 
selection before him. He asked the prices, which 
were very high. At last he selected one of small 
calibre. 

“ Going to travel } ” asked the man in his polite 
business tone, but fixing the Nubian sharply at 
the same time ; the man’s grey eyes had blue 
rings round them like the mouth of a musket. 

Lou did not seem to grasp his meaning. 

“ I mean, you are going on a trip, are you 
not } ” he inquired again. 


THE GREAT DARKNESS 


247 


Lou grinned and nodded. He paid the money 
hurriedly, and hastened to get out of the range 
of those piercing eyes. 

It was late in the afternoon when he made his 
way slowly over the Pont-au-Change. A dirty, 
red fog hung over the zigzag line of houses 
which closed the horizon at the bend of the Seine, 
in which the sun, appearing above it as a great 
glowing hemisphere, seemed to swim ; you could 
almost see it rise and fall on the waves of mist, 
its reflection quivering and dancing on the turbid 
waters below. The fog sent forth a strange and 
sultry breath. 

The peeple stood and gazed in wonder at the 
spectacle. Lou too stood still, in that aimless 
frame of mind and body which mechanically 
obeys the slightest impression from without. 
Suddenly the glowing ball disappeared, engulfed, 
swallowed up by the unlovely mist, so suddenly 
as to give the spectators a physical shock. At 
the same moment, the bank of cloud sailing 
higher up in the pale sky began to glow, stretch- 
ing up like an immense, heavily massed pillar of 
steam. It looked as if this steam rose with 
audible hissing from out the gulf into which the 
sun had sunk. 

A howl from the roadway made Lou start. 


248 


LOU 


Immediately afterwards the stroke of a whip 
caught his ear. He winced at the sound, it cut 
him to the heart. 

When he turned to look, his eyes were so 
dazzled by gazing at the sunset that he could 
distinguish nothing but a confusion of vehicles. 

Another howl ! Lou’s blood ran cold. He 
shook his head hastily, trying to clear his eyes 
of the colours which danced before them, and 
rubbing them with all his might. 

Once more that sound, farther off now, but 
audible through all the rattle and rumble of 
wheels. That last was like a cry for help. 

It broke the stony spell that bound him. He 
turned and ran after it, gazing, peering, staring 
through the blue and green and orange-coloured 
balls that danced wildly before his eyes, stumbling 
along heedless of the passers-by. 

It was Zeppa’s voice ! 

How could he have recognised it } How catch 
the fine shade of difference between Zeppa’s howl 
and the howl of other dogs ? And yet it was 
Zeppa’s voice. Lou knew it — knew it by the 
frantic beating of his heart. 

At last, as the play of coloured specks grew 
fainter, he perceived a little cart in which sat a 
course fat man in his shirt-sleeves. 


THE GREAT DARKNESS 


249 


Was not that the purple, bloated face of the 
butcher of St. Cloud } It shook like a jelly 
under the jolting of the little cart. The thick lips 
were drawn in a whistle, the right hand held a 
stout whip over the back of a great dog, tapping 
it continuously. 

Under the exertion of drawing that cruel load, 
the bones of the dog’s body stood out prominently 
through the grey-brown skin which hung in folds 
about him. Dark stripes on the back looked like 
the weals left by old blows. His head drooped, 
his tongue hung out, and he panted loudly. 

Zeppa’s eye ! — no, only the ugly hole dug by 
the lion’s claw. Every nerve in Lou leaped at 
the sight. He trotted along unsteadily beside the 
cart, his burning eyes fixed upon the dog, his 
mouth open, but incapable of uttering a sound. 

The thoughts darted through his brain in zig- 
zag flashes. Away with every trace of grudge — 
away with it at the sight of this shamefully mis- 
handled creature ! Away with all thoughts of his 
own trouble ! Let it be once more Lou for his 
Zeppa ! Lou will not forsake Zeppa — not now ! 
And after that — what ? All one — whether it be 
the great darkness or the greater torture of the 
sunlight : it is all the same to him ; just as Zeppa 
will ! 


250 


LOU 


He trots on and on beside the cart, his eyes 
upon the gasping dog. Zeppa cannot see him. 
He tries to call his name, but the word cleaves to 
the roof of his mouth. 

It is all so new yet — the surprise of the meeting, 
his anger at the ilhtreatment of the noble animal ; 
he will, he must, free it from those brutal hands ! 

But must it be by force } In that case, they 
might be parted again as they were at the fair of 
St. Cloud, where Lou was dragged off to the 
police-station. He therefore keeps back a little, 
going against the stream of the foot passengers, 
who turn round in amazement at him, as he winds 
in and out among them, half running that he may 
not lose sight of the cart. 

It rattles over the Place St. Michel, making a 
wide circuit to avoid the stream of carriages 
coming from the Boulevard of the same name. 
Here the way is clearer, and Zeppa tries to rest a 
little, but the butcher’s whip will not permit it. 
At the hoarse threats and curses, and the stinging 
blows that fall on his back, the animal starts for- 
ward again, whining loudly, and protesting with 
hoarse barks against this brutality. 

But the whip is all-powerful, it urges the dog 
to a last effort, and he drags the cart with a 
desperate rush across the Place. 


THE GREAT DARKNESS 


25 


Lou follows hard upon them, his fist clenched, 
choking with rage. 

There is the fountain of St. Michel. White 
and foaming, it pours down in a wide arch from 
the upper basin, above which rises the figure of 
the Archangel. A fine cloud of mist hovers 
above the basin, a puff of wind drives a shower 
of spray across the pavement. 

Ah ! how refreshing — what a blessed relief ! 
Zeppa makes straight for the fountain, eager and 
gasping for a mouthful of cooling water. The 
butcher pulls and jerks at the reins, trying with 
furious blows to force the dog in the opposite 
direction. 

A loud snarl comes from the side of the cart 
like a sound from a wild beast ; a hand clutches 
fiercely at the butcher’s hand. 

The butcher lifts his head with a jerk of 
surprise. There is an exclamation of astonish- 
ment : is not this the black thief of St. Cloud, the 
owner of the dog } 

His attempt at a grin dies out before the 
Nubian’s terrific flaming eyes and the grim 
gnashing of his teeth. What is he going to do ? 
A torrent of mad words hisses from between those 
teeth, of which the butcher understands not a 
syllable. He burst into a coarse guffaw, and with 


252 


LOU 


his powerful fist hurls his assailant aside, while 
one lash of the whip on the dog’s back makes the 
animal plunge away with a wild howl of pain from 
the side of the fountain where he has been cooling 
his burning tongue. 

-The next instant, Lou is on his feet again. He 
throws himself upon the butcher with clenched 
fists. Devil I he will bite his throat through with 
those sharp fangs of his ! 

The butcher lifts his whip, reaches far out, and 
brings it whistling down across the Nubian’s face. 

Another wild beast snarl wrings itself from 
Lou’s lips ; for one instant he reels, stunned by 
the blow, then gathers himself up, stands erect — 
there is a flash of metal in his outstretched hand. 
Three seconds only — then a shot ; a puff of blue 
smoke, and two cries like an echo of the shot : 
one a shrill curse from the butcher’s lips, and the 
other Lou’s wild triumphant cry of “ Zeppa ! ” as 
he falls upon the dog’s neck. 

In another moment he has freed the dog of the 
harness, and has made a rush with him across the 
Place. The crowd hurrying up at the sound of 
the shot separates in terror before them. 

He wants to get across the road, and so reach 
the Seine quay opposite. But it is not so easy ; 
he has to pull up before the unbroken stream of 


THE GREAT DARKNESS 


253 


jostling, rattling vehicles coming down from the 
top of the Boulevard with a rapidity it would be 
difficult to restrain: a halt that may cost him 
everything. 

Quick — quick ! They are coming to seize him, 
to tear him from Zeppa ! 

It must not, shall not, be ! 

In desperation, he flings himself into the midst 
of the traffic. He has nearly succeeded in forcing 
himself through in a zigzag line, when suddenly 
Zeppa hangs back and lets himself be dragged. 
Lou pulls him on ; a voice from a height thunders 
in his ear — the hot breath of horses streams over 
his face : he staggers, falls ; shrieks and curses 
all round him ; something monstrous, a gigantic, 
cumbrous mass bears down upon him ; a noise of 
rattling, creaking, crunching ; a shrill scream of 
pain wrung from his own lips, and he is lying 
with crushed limbs under the wheels of the om- 
nibus. A dull, confused hum of voices around him, 
hands feeling over his body ; some one gives a loud 
order — was that not Zeppa’s hot breath upon his 
cheek ? 

Then darkness — the great darkness. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

LOU’S HEAVEN. 

The ward in which Lou lay in bed was very 
quiet, very light, and very clean. Several other 
beds stood near, from some of which pale faces 
looked out with the large absent eyes of sickness. 
Two Sisters glided busily hither and thither, the 
stiff wings of their caps rustling faintly, but their 
footsteps inaudible on the long strips of carpet. 

For many days Lou did not know how he 
came there. In the mists of fever and delirium 
which obscured his senses, all that he had gone 
through, now and in the past, concentrated itself 
to one great fantastic dream. Through this dream- 
cloud would burst a great zigzag flash of light- 
ning, howling and shrieking weirdly. The terrible 
lash of Cairo ! They had difficulty in holding 
him, he writhed and flung himself about so 
violently under the stinging strokes of that 
imagined lash. 


LOTTS HEAVEN 


255 


Only a few days ago it had given him a cut 
across the face ; the stripe stood out red and 
swollen over one temple. With the intense 
smarting of this stripe his recollection of the past 
events began to return. 

One day, as he lay there in a semi-conscious 
state, another dream came to him ; but this time 
a beautiful — an unspeakably beautiful dream ! 
Warm breath played over his face — something 
whimpered at his side ; now a moist tongue 
licked his hand. Ah ! Zeppa was there ! Oh 
joy ! Lou knew then that the dog would desert 
him no more, he would stay with him to the end. 

He dared not open his eyes lest the dream should 
melt away. A Sister whispered : ^'Allans — good 
dog ! you must not worry him ! Lie down ! ” 

Lou gave one quick look. He was there ! It 
was he ! Zeppa’s eyes — no, only the one he had 
saved from the lion’s den. Zeppa’s polished 
black nose ! Zeppa’s joyfully wagging tail ! 

Then all grew dark once more. 

He could not understand all the Sister tried to 
tell him later on. How, barking and howling, 
the dog had followed the stretcher on which Lou 
had been brought in, and how he had never left 
the Hotel Dieu since. But the rules were very 
strict, and they dared not let him come inside. 


256 


LOU 


Only quite in secret, at certain hours when the 
dread superintendence was wont to nod a little, 
did the Sister venture to let the dog approach the 
bed. The other patients would hear then, to their 
astonishment, how the two were carrying on a low 
conversation ; Lou would whisper tender, loving 
(vords to the dog in a language none of them 
understood ; and Zeppa would give answer in 
short, plaintive tones that were something more 
than animal. 

At last there came a day when the head sur- 
geon said to the Sister : “ Let the dog stay beside 
him for the little time that remains ; it is all the 
poor fellow has in the world.” 

Yes; he had nothing left but this loving, 
faithful dog’s heart. Even his one treasure, 
the memory of his dead Moussou, was to be em- 
bittered to him. 

Lou had pulled out the locket from his amulet 
bag. Even the gnawing misery of his vagabond 
days had not succeeded in taking that from him. 
As he let the golden trinket slip idly through his 
fingers, it suddenly flew open. A picture dropped 
out. 

He recognised it instantly. Lili’s picture ! 
Mira’s picture ! The picture of the woman 
whom he had loved so deeply, and who had put 


LOV'S HEAVEIJ 


257 


him up to auction for twenty-eight thousand 
francs ! 

The truth rushed in upon him with horrible 
blinding clearness. His dead Moussou had loved 
Mira. Hence her strange distress when the 
wooden Marquis had shot himself in the puppet 
play. The woman whom she professed to know 
so well, was no other than herself. And that 
“ bliss,” which had ended by raining Moussou, had 
gone on all the time behind his back. 

Alas ! alas ! is the whole world but a puppet 
play ? 

And as on that Sunday, when he watched the 
cascades at St. Cloud, two tears rolled slowly 
down his cheeks, but hotter, larger, brighter than 
before. His whole life’s sorrow seemed to find 
its last expression in those two tears. 

Strange visitors stood round his bed at times. 
Keen, sharp, learned faces glared down upon him 
through weirdly flashing spectacles. Were they 
going to do anything for him .^ He shook his 
head in silent negation : they need not try to 
cure him. Was such a life worth living? 

Poor Lou, they neither wished to nor could 
they cure you. But they were extremely anxious 
to know whether you belonged to the tribe of the 
Bischari, or the Ababdah, or the Barabra. They 

& 


LOU 


^58 

took measurements of your skull, and they 
worried you in order to catch a scrap or so of 
your Nubian dialect; you had even to let them 
measure the angle of your face with their unfeel- 
ing hands. 

One of them— an eager, f inatical young 
scientist — seemed to take a special interest in your 
handsome head. With the greedy anxiety of an 
enthusiastic collector who fears to lose a rare 
curio, he kept his eyes upon “ this wonderfully 
perfect specimen,” and came each morning to see 
if you were still alive. 

One of the Sisters had told him about a Heaven 
where all good people go, and whose joys will 
make up for all the troubles and trials of this life. 
He, too, should enter there if he repented him of 
the deed committed at the fountain. The bullet 
had missed its mark, it is true; but nevertheless it 
was a sin upon his conscience. 

A last faint spark of anger flashed from Lou’s 
dim eyes. 

The Sister shook her head admonishly. “We 
must forgive, that we may be forgiven. No re- 
pentance, no Heaven, my friend ! ” 

Ah ! he was so weak, and the Sister’s voice had 
such a heartfelt tone — it was so new to him. 
Like a gentle, kindly hand it seemed to sweep 


LOC/’S HEAVEIJ 


259 


away all thoughts of hatred from his mind. A 
plaintive smile passed over his sunken features. 

“ Lou not 'worth,” he sighed ; “ Lou not worth 
Heaven ; Heaven white, Lou not white.” 

As the end drew near, the Sister sat at his bed- 
side. The dog had buried his nose deep in the 
coverlet, and gazed fixedly with his one faithful 
eye into Lou’s face. 

The Sister began to pray. Our Father, which 
art in Heaven ” 

Only a few mutilated words came from the 
dying man. 

“ Hallowed be Thy name * 

His lips worked mechanically, he tried to re- 
peat it ; but the words had little resemblance to 
the real ones. 

“ Thy kingdom come,” continued the Sister. 

The lips stopped short in their efforts. “ Thy 
kingdom come — can’t you hear, Lou ? ” 

Lou was silent. 

Suddenly he stammered out — louder, more 
distinctly : “ Which art in Heaven ” 

“ Yes, Lou, yes ; ” the Sister urged gently ; “ go 
on : Thy kingdom come 

He slowly turned his heavy head from side to 
side on the pillow. He v/as evidently trying 
hard to speak. The Sister listened attentively. 


26 o 


LOU 


Gathering his thoughts together with one last 
effort of will, he let the words drop syllable by 
syllable. 

“ Lou not want Heaven — where — Lili is — Lou 
not — want Heaven — where any people — people 
not good — Lou want Heaven — where Zeppa go — 
Zeppa Heaven — good Heaven ! 

“ Holy Mother of God ! ” cried the Sister, start- 
ing to her feet in horror. 

When they came to him next morning he was 
dead — his face turned towards Zeppa. They had 
difficulty in unclasping the stiffened fingers from 
the dog’s collar. A ray of golden sunshine 
streamed across the bed, and conjured up the 
semblance of a smile upon the quiet features of 
the dead. 


CHAPTER XXIII. 
LOU’S HONOURS. 


A FEW months later the administration of the 
Hotel Dieu received a considerable sum of money, 
with directions that it was to be used in erecting 
a monument upon the grave of a Nubian, named 
Lou, who had died in the hospital in the preceding 
October. It was to be of marble, something 
princely, magnificent ; no expense was to be spared. 
The document bore a Spanish postmark, and was 
signed in a clear but slightly trembling hand : 
Mira, Countess Cabrera. 

There was universal astonishment at the office. 
Aha ! the spoilt diva wants to bring herself into 
notice again ! She fancies herself forgotten in the 
splendour of her coronet ! One of the officials 
knew better. This monument represented the 
weight that sat upon her conscience like a night- 
mare : she hoped thus to free herself of it — it 
threatened to crush her. 


S 


262 


LOU 


The little man recalled the circumstances. On 
^he day after the Nubian’s death, a lady dressed 
in black, and with all the airs of a tragedy queen, 
came sweeping into the bureau ; through the crape 
veil, which completely covered her head, you could 
see the gleam of golden hair. 

Her voice shook a little as she explained her 
mission. “ May I be permitted to see the 
body .? ” 

“ Which body, Madame } ” Through the official’s 
smiling politeness towards a lady broke a tone of 
annoyance at such a question ; as if there was not 
more than one body in a great hospital like that ! 

“ It was in the Figaro^ Monsieur,” explained the 
lady ; she was going to say something more, but a 
sudden feeling of shame seemed to cut her short. 

She had read it in the Figaro ! Among the 
coarse gossip of the Boulevards, the highly spiced 
douhle-entends and the rich baits of the matri- 
monial advertisements, she had read that a certain 
Nubian who had fired off a pistol near the Fontaine 
St. Michel had just died in the Hotel Dieu. 

The official, though well-accustomed to the 
hardly restrained tears and broken sighs of visitors, 
was startled by the strange tremor in her voice : 
“ It is a black — his name is Lou.” 

The man shrugged his shoulders with his polite 


LOU^S HONOURS 


263 

smile again, and stuck his pen behind his ear. 
“ Very sorry, Madame, but you are too late ; you 
should have come sooner.” 

“ Is he buried already ? ” she murmured almost 
inaudibly. 

‘‘ Hm, not that,” answered the official ; and there 
was something ghastly in the fact that while he 
spoke he forgot to drop his professional smile. 
“ Not that, Madame, but you know the conditions 
of being received into the Hotel Dieu ; nobody 
came to claim him : these scientific gentlemen 
are so eager in their thirst for knowledge, parti- 
cularly in the case of this Nubian . . . 

The lady was seized with shuddering horror 
and rushed away. The official saw her dart 
across the square in front of Notre Dame, after 
sending away her carriage with a wild, convulsive 
gesture. .A fine drizzle was coming down from 
the grey sky, but she disdained the protection of 
an umbrella ; her dress rustled loudly over the 
wet black pavement. 

Then she disappeared into the yawning darkness 
of the portico of Notre Dame. 

The Renaissance Theatre was thrown into 
utter consternation that night. Golden Mira had 
sent word that she was ill. It was rumoured 
that she meant to leave the stage altogether. All 


264 


LOU 


kinds of reports flew about the Boulevards. 
Mira was going into a nunnery — no, she was 
going to marry Count Cabrera immediately. 

The Countess’s orders were carried out at once 
in that part of the churchyard of Mont Parnasse 
reserved for the Hotel Dieu. A marble monument 
arose above the Nubian’s grave. A slight dilemma 
was occasioned, however, by the fact that there 
was no room for the broad pediment between the 
poor little crosses of the hospital, and they had 
to move some of them further off. 

The monument was a masterpiece of pomp 
and grandeur, and the pride of the artist who 
executed it ; it did him eminent service as an 
advertisement, and brought him in a number of 
other orders. It was admired by all visitors to 
the churchyard, and recommended to strangers as 
a sight worth seeing. They were amazed by it. 
What princely dignitary or what great celebrity 
lay buried here ? But there was nothing to tell 
them but the great, laconic, glittering gold “Lou’ 
on the white marble ; nothing but the star against 
it in the guide-book to distinguish it above other 
monuments. 

It stood in such a warm sunny spot, that often 
on mild spring afternoons it would happen that 
the roving taste of the nurses led them to 


LOU'S HONOURS 263 

come thus far. Then the monument would be 
surrounded by the gay voices of children, and 
some of the little lips would spell out the solitary 
inscription L — O — U, — only three letters ; and 
their laughter would flutter, bird-like, into the air 
with delight at having conquered the stupendous 
difficulty of those three letters. 

Thus, poor Lou, did they remember thee in 
death ! 


¥ 



LIST OF PUBLICATIONS 


'including New Editions), 


Cbe Cominobore’s ©auGbters. 

From the Nonvegian of JON A S LIE, with introduction by 
Edmund Gosse, author of The Secret of Narcissef etc, 
i2mo, cloth $1.00 ; paper 50 ^. 

A REALLY delightful novel of domestic life in Scandinavia. It is the 
^ antithesis of the psychological stories and dramas we have been 
taught to look for in such Norwegian writers as Bjornson and Ibsen. 
It has a simple but most interesting plot, and is naturally told. It portrays 
the home life of an old Commodore’s family at a Norway seaport and 
naval station — a life of quiet incidents, chequered love-making, and 
thwarted ambitions. The characters are capitally drawn and enchain the 
interest of the reader. The ending is sad, but consistent with the purpos« 
the clever novelist has had in view. 


m tbe Moiib, MorlMi?. 

By MBS, FORRESTER, author of Dearest f etc. iimo, 
cloth $i.oo; paper 5o<:. 

‘"X'HE subject of Mrs. Forrester’s new novel is hardly original; but 

* the book is pleasantly written, and occasionally shows signs of 
delicate observation. The machinations of a society siren, ihe perils of ths 
honorable young man whom she had jilted on account of his poverty in 
days gone by, but had not forgotten, his final recognition of her worth- 
lessness, and the triumph of a charming young girl, are familiar themes 
enough. They are set forth in this instance with a certain charm and 
freshness. Mrs. Forrester shows to advantage when dealing with simple, 
honest, and upright people, who, however, are not so easily made inter- 
esting as our author contrives to make them interesting.” — The Athen- 
(tum. 

By the same Author, 

Dearest. 

By MRS. FORRESTER, author of Of the World, 
Worldly.” i 2 mo, cloth $i.OO ; paper 50^-. 

A SIMPLE delightful story, which may confidently be commended to 
^ every novel reader. It is written in the sprightly manner and with 
the enchaining qualities characteristic of its popular authoress. 

Dearest is a novel in Mrs. Forrester’s earlier and better manner. The 
story, which is simply and naturally told, narrates the experiences of a 
young gh'l in subjection to an obnoxious governess and to a mother who 
favors her elder daughters and treats the defiant one harshly. The young 
girl’s cause is taken up by a step-brother whom the mother fears, and a 
new governess comes upon the scene to make interesting complications 
in the family circle and change the situation of the once hapless but now 
triumphant Cinderella. Dearest is one of the most charming novels of 
the day, and is sure to win its way to success. 

Zhe Mrono ^Tbat Mas Done. 

By F. W. ROBINSON, author of “ The Keeper of the 
Keys,” “ Our Err mg Brother,” etc. Belmore Series, paper 
50c/ also, i 2 mo, cloth $i 00. 

“ 'T'HIS story of an elderly man’s love which turns out happily in the end, 

* is related with the skill of a practiced writer of fiction, and the. 
interest is well sustained throughout. The characters are naturally pre- 
sented and the incidents are exciting without being over-sensational.”— 
Boston Gazette, 


Ibis (Brace. 

By JV. E. N ORRIS y author of ‘ ‘ Matrimony ‘ ‘ No Namcy ” 
etc. i 2 mo, cloth, ornamental, $i.cx) ; paper 50c. 

NORRIS has never had a happier thought for a novel, nor worked 
out his idea more felicitously, than in this bright story. . . 

His Greece jv. cleverly written, and is a thoroughly picturesque and spark- 
ling novel. 


Salammbo. 

Br GUSTAl^E FLAUBERT. Englished hy M. French 
Sheldon. Illustrated. i 2 mo, cloth $1.25 ; paper 50c. 

^HE fascination hac long been acknowledged of that masterpiece of 
French historic realism, Flaubert’s Salammbo. M. Duruy, the great 
French historian and minister of education, has warmly eulogized the 
work and admitted the fidelity with which the novelist nas delineated the 
period. The story deals with Carthage at the time of the First Punic War, 
with the sensuously depicted daughvSr of Hamilcar, the great Carthagenian 
General, with the revolt of the barbar 'an soldiery who were employed as 
mercenaries against the Roman legions, *v.id ,vith the defiled shrines of 
Phoenician gods and their votaries. 


tTbe Hower of fCabbeo. 

By ^^OUIDA,'^ author of “ Two rriills Wooden Shoes," etc. 
\ 2 mo, cloth $i .00 ; paper 50<:. 

W HEN “Ouida” cares to step aside from he. beaten track, no one 
can write a prettier story, or one more overflowing with love and 
tenderness. The Tower of Taddeo is in her best manner, the manner 
that gave us Bebe, Pipistrello, and A Leaf in the Storm. It is a pathetic 
story of an old bookseller who, having no idea of money, gathers treasures 
of old books, which, with the extravagance of an ungrateful and wild son, 
ruins him. He has a daughter who lives, loves and cares for him, who 
becomes betrothed to a poor artist. It is a story of simple, trusting 
ignorance on the one hand, and grasping dishonesty on the other, and 
while for so simple a tale, without dramatic interest, it is rather long 
drawn out, it is a beautiful story and written as only a writer like Ouida 
can write. 


Zhe ibcritage of tbe Ikurts. 

From the Norwegian of BJORNSTJERNE BJORNSON, 
with introduction by' Edmund Gosse. i 2 mo, cloth $i.oo; 
paper 50^:. 

“A POWERFUL as well as a fascinating book. The mere outline of the 
story can give no idea of the subtle psychology, of the descriptive 
force, of the underlying poetry which it contains .” — Pall Mall Gazette. 

The Heritage of the ICurts C2in\i2Lrdi\y he said to be pleasant reading. 
It is a grim story, full of dark shadows that form the setting of strong 
•situations vividly and realistically portrayed. The motive of the story 
seems to be to trace the influence of heredity, and this is done with great 
power and an infinite knowledge of human nature as exemplified in a 
variety of strongly conceived characters under the influence of environ- 
ment. The novel makes large demands upon the reader’s attention, which 
is amply repaid by the author’s marvellous powers of description and 
dramatic skill in the working out of the plot. 

flDr. Baile^^flDartin. 

A Satirical Study. By PERC Y JVHITE, editor of London 
^'■Public Opinion.'^ i 2 mo, cloth $1.00 ; paper 50^. 

“A CLEVER, amusing, but audacious book .” — London Times. 

“ Bright, fresh, vigorous in action, and told with a wealth of incident 
and humor.” — London Literary World. 

“The book teems with smart sayings and graphic characterizations, 
and cannot fail to make a mark among the cleverest novels of the year.”— • 
London Daily Telegraph. 

“ This is distinctly a book to be read. It has quite a new flavor in 
fiction. As a study of a snob, it merits a place beside the ever fresh 
pictures of Thackeray. ’ ’ 

flbe IRew IRector. 

By STANLEY f. WEYMAN, author of A Gentleman 
of France f etc. \2mOy cloth $1.00 ; pape,r 50c. 

A CLERICAL comedy of errors, told with all the liveliness and literary 
^ skill of this clever new writer. 

“ The New Rector is well written, and in every essential feature very 
readable — even charming — in its characterizations and descriptions. The 
portraiture of the young rector is excellent, the difficulties he encounters 
and overcomes are quite interesting ; the gossip is clean, and the love 
scenes are conceived in good taste .” — Church Union. 


Jfounf) (Built?. 

By FRA NK BA RRE TT, author of ‘ ‘ yohn Ford, ’ ’ ‘ ^L<rve ana 

Honor, ” Set of Rogues, ’ ’ etc. i2mo,c/oth $i .00 ; paper 50c. 

A STORY cast in the fashion of Wilkie Collins’ thrilling novels, reciting 
^ a series of more or less mysterious incidents of an exciting character, 
the explanation of which is kept back till the close of the book. The 
reader’s interest is maintained through a succession of narratives, written 
down by the characters concerned in the plot, and whose statements are 
helpful in unravelling the threads of the story, while they add intensity to 
the dramatic qualities of the novel and lead up to a deytouenient as un- 
expected as it is tragic. The book is well put together, with a strong 
and enchaining plot, and should find many readers among those who are 
attracted by the stories of Wilkie Collins, Gaboriau, and the Sherlock 
Holmes Series of detective novels of Dr. Conan Doyle. 


fIDat)cmoiselle flbiss. 

By HENR Y HA RLAND {Sidney Luskd), anchor of “ Mea 
Culpa," As It Was Written,' '' etc. Full i6mo, cloth orna-^ 
mental, $1.00. 

T he productions of Henry Harland have already achieved wide dis- 
tinction, both because of their clever satire and the easy versatility 
they vouchsafe in the author. The title story of the present volume, as 
well as those which follow it, shows the same clear insight into character, 
the same strength and delicacy of description, and tlie same faculty of 
iralividualizing the personages of the narrative, as is manifest in Mr. Har- 
land’s previous work. Altogether, the volume is one of unbounded 
interest, and the skilfully drawn character sketches with which the reader 
is presented are closely and pleasantly interwoven with an atmosphere 
that is thoroughly, Parisian. 

IRora (treina. 

By “ THE DUCHESS," author of “ Phyllis," Molly 
Bawn," etc. i2mo, cloth $1.00 ; paper $oc. 

T he Duchess’ vivacious style and Irish humor lighten up Mora Creina, 
and the same delightful characters that lightly flirted and smiled 
through “Phyllis,” and “Molly Bawn,” and a host of other Irish novels 
reappear here in a new and pleasing role. It is amazing how The Duchess 
can continue to be so prolific in her writings, and yet succeed, through 
actual merit, in holding the fealty of her readers. 


H Xittic MorlMina. 

By L. C. ELLSWORTHy author of “ Furono Amatiy** etc, 
etc, i 2 mo, paper ^oc. 

• American Authors' Series. 

is a novel well entitled to place in the front rank of current imag- 
* inative literature. There is not an uninteresting paragraph within 
the covers of the book, the story being told with a charming grace of 
^.^ction, and the characters are attractive by reason of their naturalness. ” 
— Brooklyn Standard Union. 


traica of SolMero an& Civilians. 

By AMBROSE BIERCE, \2m0y cloth $1.00 ; paper 50^. 

American Authors' Series. 

K COLLECTION of weird, pathetic, and blood-curdling stories that will 
be read with avidity not only by the seekers after novelty, but by the 
more critical readers who appreciate literary merit. Mr. Bierce has no 
peer in his peculiar vein of satire, and his works will undoubtedly be- 
come classic. 


Moman— ^brouGb a fIDan's i£\)e0las0. 

By MALCOLM C. S ALA MAN. With illustrations by 

Dudley Hardy. \2mo, cloth^ gilt top^ $i.oo ; paper 50^. 

A SPRIGHTLY and thoroughly entertaining volume; its author is 
^ evidently not unfamiliar with the winsomeness as well as the foibles 
of woman.” — Providence yotirnal. 

“ Mr. Salaman’s work is written with brightness and elegance, with 
touches here and there of both caustic and kindly humor. The book is 
daintily got up, and is embellished with illustrations by Dudley Hardy in 
his happiest sketch vein.” — London Telegraph. 

Zbe ^Trutb about JSeaut?. 

By ANNIE JVOLE, author of Pictures and Portraits of 
B'oreign Travel f Pen Pictures of London Society f etc. 
Elegantly illustrated by JV. P. Hopper. i 2 mOy cloth^ gilt 
top $ I 00 ; paper 50^. 

“'^O write The Truth About Beauty^ that shall commend its gospel to 
sane woman, is something that not only the fair sex but the human 
race ought to be thankful for. Mrs. Wolf, in her eminently wholesome 
book, does not preach to her sisters; she writes as a woman of the world; 
but what she has to say is thoroughly sound, and evidently inspired by a 
high motive.” — American Bookseller. 

^Tbree IWormaub? Huns. 

By ANNA BOWMAN DODD, author of Cathedral 
Daysf *^Glormdaf etc. Exquisitely illustrated by C. S, 
Reinhart and other artists. 8w, cloth, gilt $1.50 ; paper ^oc. 
“ A THOROUGHLY artistic treatment of picturesque scenery and a 
^ picturesque people.” — Philadelphia Inquirer. 

“It is long since a more vivacious and thoroughly charming volume 
of travels has appeared. Old as the theme is, and familiar as the ground 
is, Mrs. Dodd has given to her narrative an individuality and a freshness 
that are delightful.” — Book Biiyer. 

“The author of ‘ Cathedral Days,’ ‘ Glorinda,’ ‘ The Republic of the 
Future, ’ and other notable works, has here given us a whole gallery of 
pastels in prose. No hand has ever more eagerly and assiduously penciled 
the miniatures of alert and sympathetic eyes. Much of the narrative is 
written as by one under a spell of fascination ; and who that has ever 
breathed the air of Normandy and feasted vision upon her peaceful scenes 
has not felt that sense of enchantment.”—yY«t/ York World, 


®’Connor 0 of 36aIUnab!ncb. 


By Mrs. Hunger/ or d “ THE DUCHESS/ author of 
** Molty Bawn/ etc. \2mo, cloth $i oo ; fafer ^oc. 

“ K NOVEL possessing all the characteristics of this prolific and popular 
author. ” — Denver News. 

“ In the Connors of Ballinahinch the characters are original, well 
sustained, and the literary workmanship is excellent .” — Providence 
Journal. 


2)iana. 


The History of a Great Mistake. By MRS. OLIPHANT y 
author of ‘ ‘ The Perpettial Curate ^ ” ‘ ‘ Whiteladies, * ’ etc, 
i 2 mo, cloth $1.00 ; pafer ^oc. 

“ '^HE style is very smooth and finished, the story is interesting, and 
^ the characters are well drawn. ” — Boston Times. 

The Athenccum observes about “Diana,” “that no reader can fail to 
appreciate either the charming dexterity which Mrs. Oliphant has 
displayed in working out the details of her plot, or the living reality of her 
characters, even where the latter play but the smallest part in the action 
of the story. ” 


^he Cucftoo in tbc IRest. 


By MRS. O LI PH A NT, author of ‘ '■Diana, ” “ The Perpetual 
Curate,'^ etc. \ 2 nio, cloth, ornamental , $i.oo ; paper ^oc. 

“ OELDOM has Mrs. Oliphant portrayed a more charming character than 
Patty, the typical maid of the inn. The author’s insight into the 
by-ways of manners and modes of thought of a certain class, Patty’s 
toughness and decision, absolute want of reticence (her most appalling 
quality), faithfulness in act, stormy self-abandonment in temper, ambition 
to resemble persons "whom it is bitter to her to acknowledge inwardly as 
superior, are all admirable .” — The Athenceum. 


^be ©lb maib’9 Club. 


By /. ZANGIVILL, author of *^The Master f ** The 
Bachelor '' 5 Clubf The Big Bow Mystery f etc. With 
illustrations. \ 2 nw, cloth, ornamental, $1.25 ; paper 50c-. 

author, Israel Zangwill, is recognized as one of the most promising 
young writers of the day — a new Disraeli in the boldness and 
brilliancy of his fancy. The book is profusely and handsomely illustrated 
by F. H. Townsend, and is one of the most delicious literary conceits of 
recent years. The story of The Old Maid^s Club, which is indeed 
intended to be a club of young, beautiful, and wealthy women — the cold- 
blooded austerity of its exclusiveness, its inflexible conditions of member- 
ship, its relentless by-laws, the thrilling adventures which overtake its 
would-be members, its extraordinary ending — the story of these must he 
studied at length in the book itself, which is absolutely unique in its way. 


eyperiences of a Xab?-1bclp. 

By JOHN STRANGE WINTER, author of “ Bootle's 
Baby Regimental Legends," Army Tales," etc. i 2 mo, 
cloth $1.00 ; paper ^oc. 

‘"^HE heroine, who tells the story, is admirably depicted, and the 
* characters throughout are drawn with skill and a keen knowledge 
of the lighter phases of human nature. It is the best and the most 
ambitious of its author’s novels .” — Boston Gazette. 


jfor tbe Sahe of tbe family. 

By MA V CROMMELIN, author of Goblin Gold," “ The 
Freaks of Lady Fortune," etc. \ 2 mo, cloth $1.00; paper 
5or. 

A SIMPLE, unaffected novel in these days of sensational rubbish is 
^ refreshing. This tale of English life is of that description ; the plot 
is well constructed, the character-drawing good , and the diction excellent. ” 
— Detroit Commercial Advertiser, 


tTbc Hslanb of fantasi?. 

By B'ERGUS HUME^ author of “ The Mystery of & 
Hansom Cab f etc. i2mo, cloth $i.oo', paper ^oc. 

A ROUSING adventure -story, not merely however an exciting ro- 
^ mance, but a sufhcienlly well-studied work, with some evidence of 
poetic feeling. Two-thii-ds of the story are concerned with natural and 
supernatural marvels, occurring in the cup of a dormant volcano on a 
mythical island in the Cyclades, where a Greek community has been 
established by an adventurous Englishman.” — The Athena:um. 

“ The Island of Fantasy contains plenty of exciting incident, any 
amount of thrilling scenes, and an abundance of adventure. Withal it 
is a love-story, and thus possesses all the elements of romance.” — Pictorial 
World. 


flbe Countess IRabna. 

By W. E. NORRIS ^ author of Matrimony f No New 
Thing f etc. l2mo, cloth $i.oo ; paper ^oc. 

lyyiR. NORRIS has won an assured place among the living masters of 
* ~ ^ fiction, next perhaps to that held by Thackeray, with whom he is often 
compared. He possesses many of the high literary qualities of the author 
of Vanity Fair, combined with a gentle cynicism and clear insight into 
character. The Countess Radna has all the brilliance, as well as much of the 
interest, which characterizes the author’s early novels, Marcia, Matrimony, 
His Grace, and Mademoiselle de Mersac. It is full of good points, clever 
dialogue, and caustic comment, and is as entertaining and pleasantly 
readable as is the best of his previous stories. As a society novel, 
delineating the matrimonial misadventures of the Hungarian countess and 
her English spouse, with other delightful incidents of modern fashionable 
life, the tale will find many charmed readers. 


H ©urne^Jones Ibeab, 

and Other Sketches. By CLARA SHER WOOD ROLLINS. 
\ 2 mo. With photograveur frontispiece. Cloth $i.co. 

•*'T^HE book has distinction, it has art, it has humor, it has purpose/** 
* — Philadelphia Public Ledger, 

724 






























> 






^ Y 

^ - X /. '^ '■ . "^ .*■'?' 

V . B ^ .\ ^ o ^ r, ^ 'f 

v"^ ■* .rCH^'^Vv^ 

= xO q. . 

<■" ^0 ’ 

J M 0 ^ B I A * v'^'' 

,o" »'•», -'c. , v^ol^l''. 




V 


^ C^ ' rt'^X/^'/^ A' 

^ ® y ^ 'V ^ 

<P- ^ 

^ 'X’ 

^ s -V ■ o 

rNv <i 


0 , X .<\ 

*■» ./ ."' 

"■ '"'■p. ^ " ^- 

t 

,,o’*V S*'" 

VW 

7 2: 

A ^ y 

" y s " ^ .^G^ 

j 0 ^ -aO’ ^O ^ *" > „'^. , * 'cP-, 



Vv ✓■ ’^HVv’vV^' rv 

'a, - 0 ^ »'•", 'O 

Ajy ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ «\^ ^ r<? ^ ^ 

‘S' ^ A o \\^‘ - ^ 

" sk^WirV//' y ; 

r C,"^ o 

i 3 ® 4 * ^ « 

^ .:S ^ c-^< ^ 



y 7 « 


■'“ * - : 




N C 


A> 

^ r\ ► 


C* i. 

I/M ^ 

% 

* S 1 

1 '• \' 


\' 

r* -<<• 

* \ • 




® 'V' .< V 


*A i> »i 

• fi- y 

.\ .0 , 



\ ^ V 

*\ Mr V-* ^ it it A 

.V ^ V v’ 

✓ . ^ 

✓ ^V 

^ O o' 

A - 


^ h.( o 


> - ^ 

<■ ,x0 C‘ I. '^'' s' 




